


The Great Bi Awakening

by HisBeloved



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, But Derek still carried him out of that building, But mostly fluff, COVID-19, Clueless Stiles Stilinski, Coronavirus, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale Gets Therapy, Everyone Ships Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Everyone is in therapy, First Time Blow Jobs, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Frottage, Living Together, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski, Pets, Phone Sex, Quarantine, References to Depression, Rimming, Roommates, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Social Isolation, Stiles Stilinski & Jackson Whittemore Friendship, Stiles Stilinski Gets Therapy, Stiles Stilinski Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Stiles isn't in the FBI, even Lydia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 80,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23637553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisBeloved/pseuds/HisBeloved
Summary: The Sterek social isolation quarantine room mates fic no one asked for, ORAfter Berkeley evicts the students because of coronavirus and Lydia breaks up with him, Stiles finds himself living with Derek Hale.  Because they are almost best friends.  Do I even have to tell you where this is going?Stiles' viewpoint, semi-slow burn, a little angst over the past but not a lot.   Mostly written; many chapters on the way.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 135
Kudos: 508





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made a soundtrack, because this is Teen Wolf on MTv, and there should be a new song every five minutes, or at least each chapter. It is a work in progress until the story is completed, but there will be a link to the song and a link to the whole song list
> 
> [SYML - Where's My Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wBuif8IAOKo&list=PLoYDiCGS25o3pdlzCcwlwhjDbWDnhs2Bh&index=2&t=0s)
> 
> [Delta Rae - If I Loved You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9df7mHBjOYM&list=PLoYDiCGS25o3pdlzCcwlwhjDbWDnhs2Bh&index=2&t=0s)
> 
> [Great Bi Awakening Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLoYDiCGS25o3pdlzCcwlwhjDbWDnhs2Bh)
> 
> And hey, if you've got any songs that seem like they need to be part of this fic, especially in the chapters that don't have songs (but any, really - I'm wanting to hear all of the music and I'm old and out of touch) just let me know the name of the song and I'll see if it fits. I'm trying to stick with soft, folksy type stuff (except when something different is warranted) but I'll consider anything.

The day that Berkeley told the students that they'd have to vacate within the next 5 days, Stiles had called Lydia. Truthfully, their relationship - well things weren't great. Neither one of them wanted to admit it, because admitting something like that meant admitting to failure, and neither one of them were good at that. The one thing that they did know, though, was that they loved each other and they were amazing friends. Like soul level friends.

But the being in a relationship? It could be better, admittedly. But they were still friends even if they fought sometimes, right? She was his best friend really, so of course he called her.

It hadn't gone well. The thing was, Stiles and Lydia sounded great in theory; braniacs who shared mutually stressful and life affirming experiences. They'd saved each other's lives. He'd loved her since the 2nd grade. She'd tolerated him since then. And then the Wild Hunt happened and they'd become almost psychically linked. It was intense.

The first couple of months had been intense; they'd been intensely in love, the sex had been intense, they were inseperable. And then the honeymoon ended and the little things started to pop up. Lydia was more of a control freak than even Stiles was prepared for; Stiles was too seat of his pants. Lydia was truly an alpha human being in every sense of the word. Stiles bristled against authority. Lydia was impeccable all of the time - her clothes, hair, living space, skin routine - and she was rigid in her routines. Stiles was - not. 

Stiles and Lydia didn't really hate each other's quirks, they were just mutually incompatible. They loved each other. They liked each other, so much so that they'd held on for two difficult years, compounded in difficulty by the fact that he was in California and she was in Massachusetts. Long distance wasn't easy. Being together was exhausting the both of them and it was getting more and more difficult to deny it.

When Stiles presented the idea of quarantining together, Lydia had been quiet for far too long on the other end of the phone. Stiles could feel the rejection without her saying a word. But she was Lydia, and she was his best friend, and she was amazing, so she said,

"You know its not working, Stiles, and I know you're not happy. It's stressful knowing that it's not working. We both want it to and"

"And we're failing," Stiles had finished.

Lydia sighed, "Yes that, and also, I love you but there's all of this tension and anger and neither one of us want to admit it."

"Because you really are my best friend," Stiles had said

"And you're mine."

"The sex is incredible," Stiles had offered. He knew it wasn't enough but it was something.

Lydia gave a mirthless laugh. "It's not enough," Lydia had said, and then he'd heard her choking back a tear on the line. 

Lydia was crying. She didn't cry, ever. And Stiles, being a guy, didn't do well with girl tears. 

But he loved her

"Lyds, please don't cry," he'd pled.

"I just don't -,"she'd started, "I just don't think we should live together. I want you to be my friend. I don't want to lose that. And I think I'd kill you after a few days. Literally."

"And you could," Stiles had admitted, because she was scary as hell when she wanted to be. 

"Don't forget it Stilinski," she'd said through watery tears.

And just like that, Stiles and Lydia were no more. They'd broken up. Two and a half years gone. He'd failed. 

So he did what any self respecting young mature adult would do and texted Scott that he and Lydia had broken up, he turned off his phone, and he cried for two days.

On the third day, Scott and his dad had shown up and pounded on his door until he couldn't ignore it anymore. According to Scott, he looked like hell and smelled like it, too. Scott had forced Stiles to take a shower and when he'd gotten done Scott and his dad had sat with him while he told them about how he and Lydia had never really worked romantically, how they should have, but they didn't. How they'd tried because ultimately she was Lydia and he loved her and she'd felt the same. But it just didn't work.

As an afterthought he told them about how he had to find a place to live. Somehow he'd glossed over the whole, everyone is being evicted from campus bit.

So of course he was staying with his dad; his dad had insisted. But here's the thing: his dad was no longer a bachelor, he'd started dating Claire, an awesome elementary school teacher that Parrish had introduced him to. A friend of Parrish's family. And, although the last thing that Stiles wanted to do was think about his dad's sex life, because eww, Stiles was relatively certain that his dad was getting some, and getting it well, on a fairly regular basis. Good for his dad. 

Claire was pretty and smart and motherly and made sure his dad ate healthy foods and she was scary intuitive and quick with a comeback and according to Parrish she was the Queen of dirty jokes and looked at his dad like he was everything. She knew about the supernatural but was totally human and had no evil alter ego or past and wasn't a Darach or under the control of some evil entity or an undercover hunter or anything, she was just human 2nd grade teacher Claire who loved his dad and who his dad loved. So good for his dad. 

He absolutely, positively did not want to know what his dad sounded like when he was having sex. He couldn't deal with that.

So Stiles' belongings had been loaded into Scotts Volvo wagon - yes, Scott had a mom car from the 90s. He claimed it carried a lot of people and was good for transporting animals but Stiles knew that Scott was just a puppy dog mom from the 90s. He'd also taken to calling Scott and Malia Cory and Topanga after Maila had discovered Cory in the House - not that that was either here nor there, they were just now Cory and Topanga.

His dad had driven Scott's car and Scott had driven Roscoe. Berkeley to Beacon Hills was a long drive, so for the first half of the day he rode with dad and just caught up. It was nice. Dad checked on his mental health subtly, made sure he was still seeing Dr. Richardson, was still doing okay in his classes, but once that was done it was life in Beacon Hills and how it was quiet again and the Nemeton was growing and supposedly everything is in balance and Claire wants to have you over for dinner and the regular dad Stiles stuff. He loved his dad

After burgers from Mickey Ds he switched to Roscoe and Scott. His dad was cool with the alone time (Scott probably had the radio all set to some old person station anyway) and he said he'd call Claire if he needed someone to talk to.

He immediately was reminded why Scott McCall was his bro til death.

"I totally get why you wouldn't want to stay with your dad. Like, I moved as soon as I could after Chris and mom moved in together," Scott offered up.

"Yeah?" Stiles had said, smiling at Scott and his earnest expression. He had missed Scott. They were like siamese twin friends or some shit. He loved Scottie.

"Okay, so one night I wake up and I'm blurry from sleep, you know? And I think somehow I've left porn playing on my laptop, but you know I don't do that,"

"Because you'd die if someone found porn on your computer," Stiles supplied, grinning.

"Yeah! It's embarrassing! I don't want people to know what I watch, that's a me and Malia thing."

"You are so angelic, Scottie McCall," Stiles teased.

"We can't all be Stiles sexy man everything is sex and sex is totally nothing to be ashamed of - I'm not ashamed, I just like to keep those things private is all - but we can't all be you Stiles."

"You think I'm sexy, Scottie? I heard those words."

"Well, yeah man. I mean you're all muscley from lacrosse - which, how bad ass is it that you're some college lacrosse star now? Can you believe it?"

"No, I can't. I mean, seriously, what the hell. I got muscles and turned into a jock. Beacon Hills' team benchwarmer, a total jock."

Scott snorted. "A total nerd jock, you mean."

"We are called all all around athletes, thank you very much."

"Whatever. You still wear Captain America underwear."

"How do you even know that?"

"I guessed," Scott grinned, obviously proud of himself. "Also, what's with the beard, man? And the hair? You're going all mountain man on us. I mean I get 'new place, new you' but objectively Stiles, and totally no homo, because bros til death, but you got sexy on us."

Stiles didn't even know how to respond to that, because he doubted he'd ever feel comfortable in his skin; well, that along with a virtual myriad of other psychological issues, so he said, "But what about the porn."

"Oh my god! Okay." Scott momentarily closed his eyes and took a deep breath steeling himself. "So I thought porn was playing. Like, the girl was really getting it hard, you know, and the guy wasn't being quiet either, and then I woke up a little more and I realized that the girls voice was the same as my mom's,"

"Oh no."

"Oh yes," Scott affirmed and then wrinkled his nose at the memory. "Oh god, she said that Stiles, she kept saying, 'Oh, yes!' Scott said in a slight falsetto, further wrinkling his nose. “And then I realized that the thumping was getting louder,”

"Oh no," Stiles said, fascinated, appalled, and absolutely wanting to hear more. Still, because of mutual solidarity, he said, "Please no more, Scottie."

"Stiles I lived it. Bros share burdens. The wall was shaking Stiles. Something crashed in mom's - their - bedroom. Like glass shattered. There was screaming. My airpods did not drown it out."

"True alpha hearing will get you every time," Stiles said, trying to keep from grinning at Scott's pain (and failing, of course).

"No kidding. So I get it. As soon as Malia got the cabin I got the fuck out."

"Speaking of which, is there a lot of that still happening at the cabin, the fucking, because we are bros and all and yes, sex is cool, but - and you know I totally support you and Malia and you two are the cutest and and sweetest - but she's literally a feral coyote wilding who can climb a person like a tree and does not hesitate to do so and I know this becasue it happened to me. Which could be a little weird," Stiles asked

"And you are objectively super sexy. Also, was that a question?"

"You'd think you'd understand my speech patterns by now. Yes, it was a question."

"And what was the question again?" Scott asked.

Stiles sighed, "The question was, are you and Malia still fucking 24/7 on every surface of your home?"

Scott blushed. "The past won’t matter, Stiles, she'll be drawn in by your raw sex appeal," he deflected and countered, knowing it would embarrass Stiles.

"Whatever, man."

"I'm not the lacrosse star with muscles and a glorious hipster beard," Scott continued. 

“And I'm not a mythological creature with super strength and endurance. Malia is done with me and totally into your alpha mojo."

"Yeah, but you've also got the magic. You are literally a magic man, Stiles."

"That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard," Stiles said, making Scott laugh.

"You don't think i could hear the phone conversations between Lydia and Malia?" Scott asked, and then, realizing he'd brought up Lydia, added, "Oh dude, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. I mean it's not okay, as my two and a half year relationship was possibly doomed from the start, but it's okay."

"Yeah?" Scott asked, making sure Stiles really was fine.

"Yeah," Stiles answered, sounding just slightly defeated. "What did they talk about?"

"So apparently you're a god in bed. I mean, I am too, because super strength and stamina and connection - you gotta have the connection …"

"Connection is key," Stiles agreed.

"But you're some sort of uninhibited pleasure machine," Scott continued, "Lydia's words. Malia agreed."

"Huh," Stiles said.

"You didn't know?" Scott asked incredulously.

"Okay, Scottie. I've been with two people. One had no frame of reference for sex whatsoever and the other is the greatest woman to have ever lived so I really didn't think I had to try that hard. I mean, what the fuck do I know about sex?"

"Everything! Are you kidding me? You are a walking sex manual!"

"Okay, let me rephrase that: what the fuck do I know about _having_ sex? You do what feels right? You make sure they feel good and get off. You make it fun. You enjoy yourself. Right?"

"All I'm saying, Stiles, is Lydia and Malia think you're a sex god."

Stiles snorted, looking out the window. "How did we get on this because this is weird," Stiles protested.

"Not so easy when you have to talk about your own sex life is it?" Scott said proudly, like he had totally made an important point.

"My point is, if you two are consistently knocking down furniture - with the sex - I just can't be there," Stiles said. "What am I going to do? Isaac and Mason are going through some frat boy phase and drinking and yelling and playing music all loud and shit all the time, and no thank you to that. Kira's pregnant, I love Erica and Boyd but their child is a literal toddler monster, and your mom would take me in a second but there's the nightly Chris Argent pornography."

Scott shivered at the last point and then smiled as if he had just come up with the greatest idea. "Derek would take you. Text him," he said.

Derek. Who he was on the way to being best friends with.

He had three best friends. He was a best friend slut.

Anyway, Derek had come back to Beacon Hills last summer. And immediately everyone could sense he was different. He smiled. Not more, he just smiled, which was new. He seemed a bit calmer. He talked to people. Not a lot, but he said words to people and asked for things and expressed his feelings and sometimes even laughed at jokes. 

He'd been to therapy. Actually, Stiles met Dr. Richardson through Derek, who had heard about Dr. Richardson from Deaton, who had learned about him at a druid convention (because they actually had those, druid conventions). Dr. Richardson was a super empath who was also telekinetic. He was the preeminent supernatural psychologist in North America. And, coincidentally, he practiced in Berkeley, three blocks from where Stiles lived. Derek had been Skyping with him twice a week and then once a week for almost a year. 

Derek had realized that he was fucked up. Like really a lot. And that he needed help. Like really a lot. He acknowledged that he had grown a lot, that connecting with his mom and finally defeating Kate had started an evolution in him, but it didn’t change the fact that he had been through some serious shit. And the more he dwelled on that shit the more fucked up he became. So he stayed in Arizona to clear his head and called Deaton because he didn't know how to not be fucked up. And Deaton had introduced Derek virtually to Dr. Richardson and a new man began to form.

Stiles and Derek had always begrudgingly respected each other (after Stiles had gotten over his Derek Hale induced bisexual awakening, which had been confirmed by Stiles daddy kink awakening upon meeting Chris Argent. It was complicated, okay, and he'd been a horny spastic kid who looked for trouble. And had a thing for brooding, scary people with intense eyes.), but when Derek stayed in Arizona Stiles found that he missed his sourwolf friend. So he started texting him. Stupid things at first, and totally on impulse the first time. But it had started something with Derek that had turned into genuine, I-really-like-and-respect-you, friendship. 

He'd texted: **_Did you know that there are 8 times as many atoms in a teaspoonful of water than there are teaspoonfuls of water in the Atlantic ocean?_ **

Within minutes he'd gotten the text **_In the 1950s 5 megabytes of data weighed a ton_ **

So admittedly, Stiles fell in love a little at that moment. Because Derek Hale texted him back. Within moments. And he'd texted a computer fact that he'd had to just know. Because he was a geek.

But Stiles was with his dream woman and Derek was in Arizona to work out his shit, so he'd texted back **_Thor, The Incredible Hulk and Iron Man 2 all take place within seven days they call it Fury’s Big Week._ **

And Derek texted back: **_Who's they? 7 up had lithium in it until 1948_ **

**_Seriously? How did I not know that. Also them, like film nerds_ **

**_1/60 of a dose but still. And so you. You are a film nerd._ **

And just like that they were friends. They texted for a few months and then one night Stiles wanted to tell Derek his theory about how Neville Longbottom's original issue with being such a terrible wizard was that he had the wrong wand (because both Lydia and Scott refused to get into Harry Potter discussions with him) and it was too complicated to text so he just called him and he'd ended up talking to Derek about Harry Potter for three hours.

They'd taken Buzzfeed quizzes and found out that Derek was Harry Potter and would be good in Transfiguration, Stiles was Dark Arts Ginny, Scott was Ron but would do best in Care of Magical Creatures, Jackson was Draco and also would work at Gringotts and Lydia, who would not be categorized, was Dumbledore and would be Minister of Magic.

It had continued for months. Stiles was the first to know that Derek was coming back to Beacon Hills. Stiles had thrown a small welcome back pack party (it was very low key, just pack). Stiles had helped Derek that summer when he finally decided to make the loft habitable. He’d learned about carpentry and plumbing and Derek had even let him use power tools (against his dad’s recommendation of keeping them as far away from Stiles as possible). He'd picked out Derek's living room furniture. It was soft and smooshy and dark gray and the chairs had tranquilizing properties. 

After Stiles went back to school, Derek teamed up with Malia, who, despite her lack of a complete education, was an amazing businesswoman and could negotiate like a lawyer and manage finances and saw big picture stuff and was sharp as a tack. Peter insisted that she got it all from him. They were building a relationship, Peter and Malia. Peter was also seeing Dr. Richardson.

Derek liked to use his hands. He liked to build and design. He liked the minute details of decorating and construction. And because Derek and now Malia were both loaded they decided to buy the building and build it out, first completing Derek's loft, then turning the first floor into a pack gathering space with spare bedrooms, a cinema room with those huge reclining chairs, a huge kitchen/dining/game area, a smaller chill out/quiet room, several bathrooms, and Derek, Malia, and Scott's offices. The second floor was still being turned into Scott and Malia's dream loft and then Erica and Boyd claimed their floor and the frat boys claimed theirs and a full out construction plan was up and running. It was mostly all being done using supernatural labor which meant that the pack had grown. Stiles and Lydia were supposed to pick their space but had never gotten around to it - or they had avoided it. Which was probably just as well.

xxx

Derek now had a beautiful, enormous dream loft with huge book cases and wood everywhere and a dream kitchen with a subzero freezer (because he could cook) and spare bedrooms and appliances and succulents and a huge television with an xbox one and netflix and his own computer and light everywhere from the enormous loft windows and the spiral staircase had been switched out for one that was a little more sturdy and a little less code violating and since his loft was at the very top of the building he had a rooftop terrace with a vegetable garden and even a greenhouse. 

Derek deserved nice things and Stiles was happy for him. And his loft was sick. And Derek had done more with it that Stiles hadn't seen, so it was probably even more sick. Sicker.

"Do you really think he'd be okay with that?" Stiles asked Scott regarding staying with Derek.

Scott laughed like Stiles was a complete idiot. "Of course he'd be okay with that. Plus I still don't like him being alone in the building even if it is just at night. It's getting better, but it's not the greatest area."

"When will your loft be done? Also, Derek is a werewolf. I think he's okay."

"He needs to be around people. He does better when he's not alone. I get that he's an introvert and needs alone time but being a loner isn't good for him. And Malia thinks in a few months but we've had some issues with work getting done on time and permits. Plus with school I don't have time to help her - she really doesn't need my help anyway. Peter and Derek help and she's a total shark…"

"Coyote Shark," Stiles said, trying out the name.

Scott smiled. "Coyote shark, yeah," he said fondly.

"You're so disgustingly in love aren't you," Stiles observed.

"Yeah..," Scott dreamily answered.

"You're a total romance novel heroine, Scott," Stiles teased.

"Shut up and text Derek," Scott laughed, punching Stiles in the arm.

"Oww! Werewolf super strength, Scottie!"

"Lacrosse star sex muscles, Stiles," Scott retorted.

Stiles didn't think Derek would say yes. Derek still liked his space. He liked quiet and he was a total introvert and while he was in therapy, he was still grumpy and preferred reading and hiding to pack gatherings. It appeared, however, that if Stiles didn't stay with Derek his future included listening to his dad and Claire or Malia and Scott bump uglies, so he texted:

_**Derek,** _ **_Berkley evicted us bc of coronavirus. Can i stay with you. Like in 2 hours bc dad and scott came to get me and i don't want to stay with dad and claire bc parent sex noises and Scott and Malia bc werewolf sex noises and please can i stay at your sick loft_ **

_**Lydia?** _Derek texted back

Stiles answered, _**Still in mass** _

And then, because, face the music, Stiles: **_and also we broke up_ **

**_I'm sorry stiles_ **, Derek replied

**_Np_ **

_**No really I'm sorry.** _

**_Okay_ **, Stiles replied. He didn't want to talk about Lydia, and he’d learned a long time ago that simply agreeing with someone usually made them move on.

And he was right. **_What do you need from the_ ** _**store?** , _Derek asked.

Stiles stared at his phone. He had constructed a five point presentation as to why he would be a good roommate which included apple pie and sick euchre skills. But Derek had just asked for his shopping list. It wasn't supposed to be this easy.

"He asked me what I need from the store," he exclaimed to Scott.

Scott smiled. "So tell him what you need from the store,” he said, continuing, “Oh, and tell him to get like 5 gallons of coffee because it's you. And toilet paper and paper towels. Is he going to Cosco? Because they have a good deal on multivitamins."

Stiles stared at Scott for a moment before saying, "You don't need multivitamins,"

"For you, dumbass," Scott replied, like it was so obvious.

"And coffee doesn't come in gallons," Stiles continued. "but I keep forgetting that you are an angelic model of physical perfection that doesn't need coffee."

"So I'm Aziraphale?" Scott asked.

"Scottie! You finally watched _Good Omens?_ Why didn't you tell me? You know, Malia could totally be Crowley…"

"I've thought that, too," Scott said. "But I don't think I'm Aziraphale…"

"Yeah, he's a top, so…" Stiles supplied.

"What?!" Scott exclaimed, aghast. "What are you trying to say! I'm the True Alpha, Stiles!"

"Blah blah blah True Alpha blah. All I'm saying is Malia is a feral coyote wilding and I've been there. And you're a Volvo driving mom puppy with dimples."

"Not cool at all, Stiles," Scott said, even though he was smiling. 

“Derek didn't ask any questions at all, like, 'How long will you be staying?' or, 'Why should I let you stay with me?'," Stiles said, continuing, "he just asked what I needed from the store."

Scott smiled. It was soft and if Stiles didn't know better, he would have called the smile knowing. "So tell him what you need from the store, dumbass," he said.

xxx

Stiles texted Derek a list which included coffee and toilet paper and also Twizzlers and Teddy Grahams and stuff to make smores. And Ivory soap.

**_Ivory will tear up your skin. I'm getting you body wash_ **, Derek texted back.

Stiles smiled. _**Okay sourwolf** , _ he answered. **_I just don’t want to smell like a tree. I want to smell like soap._ **

What, he was peculiar about his bodily smells. And he lived in a friggin evergreen forest. He didn’t need to smell like one.

_**What do you want for dinner?** _ Derek texted

"He asked me what I want for dinner. Does this seem at all surreal to you?" Stiles asked Scott.

"Not even a little bit, Stiles. He's your almost new best friend. And you two talk all the time." Scott stopped talking for a second and said, "You know what sounds good? Crazy Tio's."

"Oh my God, Scott, you are a genius. Also, I love that you are so secure in our friendship that you are totally cool with me having another, well two other, best friends."

"Yep. You and Derek, best bros," Scott said as Stiles texted Derek to ask him if he could get Crazy Tios.

**_#12?_ ** Derek texted Stiles

**_Of course_ ** **,** Stiles texted back, because it was his favorite. Who didn’t love a burrito as big as your head?

So just like that it was decided. Stiles was staying with Derek who was at Costco buying toilet paper and coffee and Teddy Grahams and body wash. And they were having Crazy Tios for dinner.

Stiles Stilinski, who had started the day sobbing over failed plans to move in with Lydia, was now Derek Hale's quarantine room mate. 

“Huh, that was easy,” Stiles said, staring at the conversation

“Yep,” Scott agreed, as if he was always right, and also, Duh?

“Huh.”

“Yep.” Scott popped the p.

Stiles stared out the window for a second and said, “Chris Argent can bang.”

“Oh my God, Stiles! Shut up!”

Stiles quickly turned to Scott, a look of contrite surprise on his face. "I swear to God, Scottie, I thought that one stayed in my head, but it slipped right out. I will Shut Up Now." 

Stiles zipped his lips and threw away the key.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an [ active Sterek blog](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fyeahsterek72); updates are published there. Come join me!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made a soundtrack, because this is Teen Wolf on MTv, and there should be a new song every five minutes, or at least each chapter. It is a work in progress until the story is completed, but there will be a link to the song and a link to the whole song list
> 
> [Josh Pyke - The Lighthouse Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GquroFVb_48&list=PLoYDiCGS25o3pdlzCcwlwhjDbWDnhs2Bh&index=3&t=0s) (Also the official song of The Great Bi Awakening)
> 
> [JP Saxe - If the World was Ending ft. Julia Michaels](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1jO2wSpAoxA)
> 
> [Great Bi Awakening Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLoYDiCGS25o3pdlzCcwlwhjDbWDnhs2Bh)

When Stiles had left for school the warehouse hadn’t looked much different than it always had. Now one side was covered in scaffolding (“A lot of the windows need new panes and they’re putting in some sort of structural supports,” Scott had explained.) When they went in the front door, there was now a lobby; to the left was the entrance to  _ Hale-Tate Construction and Design _ and a bank of old fashioned mailboxes (“Derek found them at some post office that was being closed down,” his dad had supplied.) There was a large, cordoned off open shaft where an elevator was eventually going to be placed and some potted plants. 

They headed to a door with a keypad that was straight ahead. His dad put in the code and they walked into the living/chill out area of the pack gathering space. The old freight elevator was still in place; they put all of Stiles' belongings into it and pushed the button for the top floor.

“Malia had the elevator serviced. Everyone who is pack and lives here will access their lofts with this elevator. It’s just an added layer of protection,” Scott explained.

When the freight elevator opened there was now a small foyer. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it meant that the elevator no longer opened directly into Derek’s loft.

“This is new,” Stiles remarked,

His dad huffed a laugh. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, kiddo. He’s made a lot of changes to the loft since this summer.”

“It’s pretty amazing,” Scott said.

The door opened as Stiles, Scott, and his dad were unloading Stiles’ boxes of books and trash bags of clothing into the foyer. His dad walked over to Derek and gave him a hug, patted him on the back and called him ‘son,’ which was also new. Also Derek stared at Stiles like he didn't recognize him for like 30 seconds at least, which was, frankly, uncomfortable, but then Derek schooled his features and smiled softly and helped them in. 

“Dude,” Stiles said in amazement as he looked around the loft. It was incredible. And it looked like a place that someone actually lived in instead of different sections of furniture meant to represent where rooms would go, which had been how Stiles had last seen it. The bookcases that Stiles had helped Derek build lined the back wall of the living room and were so tall that there was a rolling ladder to get to the highest shelves. There were succulents in the window sills and pillows were thrown on the couch. The kitchen had been separated from the living room by a large island which was big enough to sit at least ten people around. There were old red oriental rugs on the floor and blankets and appliances and stereo equipment and records. Actual vinyl. A long, old, rustic kitchen table was off to the side for even more places to seat people; Derek had a laptop set up at one end of the table. The spiral staircase had been replaced with a cantilevered metal stairway that looked much safer than the previous staircase and was also cool as hell. There was light flooding the space from the huge factory windows; some of them were opened and the gauzy curtains that Derek had placed in front of them blew in the breeze. 

“This place is incredible, Derek,” Stiles proclaimed. “You told me that you had gotten a lot of work done, but this is incredible. I mean, I had no idea. It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks,” Derek said, smiling bashfully. “Let me show you to your room.”

“Wait, I have a bedroom? When did that even happen? I thought I’d be sleeping on the couch.”

“We put in three bedrooms on the second floor. There could have been more, but I made a few rooms larger than I had originally planned,” Derek explained.

The bedroom was nice. It wasn’t particularly large, but it had more huge windows and a huge fluffy bed, a chest of drawers, another bookcase, and a comfy chair. Through another door was a walk-through closet that opened to a bathroom with a jacuzzi tub. There were no windows, but a skylight had been installed to let in light. A desk and ergonomic chair that were still in boxes leaned against one wall of the closet.

"You still have classes. Right?" Derek asked as Stiles looked at the boxes

"Yeah, online," Stiles answered. 

“Going well?”

“Yeah, going good. But I think I know more than most of the professors; I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut.”

“You’ve learned to keep your mouth shut?” Derek said, gaping at him in mock amazement.

“Just for them. You’re outta luck,” he teased, hunching Derek’s arm.

"Anyhow,” Derek said, looking at the desk and chairs, “I thought you'd need a space to study. Someplace quiet and out of the main room. I got them at Costco. The place is pretty well soundproofed so the construction noise usually isn’t too terrible during the day," Derek explained.

"They're really nice, Derek. All of this is so amazing. Thanks," Stiles said. Derek was so nice. Stiles was still getting used to the concept of Derek being nice; he was genuinely touched that Derek had thought about his school work.

Noah had wanted to pay Derek back for the furniture but Derek wouldn't accept any money. He had also bought Crazy Tios for everyone (Derek knew Scott's and his dad's orders as well), so they ate and talked and laughed a little and when they were done Scott boxed up the leftovers to take to Malia and Claire. Scott and Noah left after making sure that Derek couldn't think of anything that they needed, smiling at each other on the way out. Stiles distinctly thought he was missing something, but that happened more than he cared to admit, and also he was tired and drained, so whatever.

After Scott and his dad left, Derek asked Stiles if he wanted to talk about Lydia. Because new and improved Derek talked about stuff. Stiles really didn't want to talk about it again, but Derek had taken him in, so Stiles talked. They ended up talking about Stiles' and Lydia's relationship, about how he still loved her but being in a relationship with her just didn't work. About how he felt like a failure but how Lydia deserved someone who wasn't irritated by her all of the time.

"And you deserve someone who does more than tolerate you," Derek interjected.

"Yeah, I know," Stiles sighed. "But she was supposed to be it. And she wasn't. And when you love someone and are best friends with them but you sort of can't stand them when you spend more than a few hours with them it just sucks."

"I really am sorry," Derek said. He looked genuinely hurt for Stiles.

"Thanks. And thanks for letting me stay here."

"No problem," Derek replied.

They ended up going to bed at one a.m.

xxx

They spent part of the next day putting the desk and chair together. They worked well together; they'd learned that last summer, when Stiles had helped Derek build out his loft, and it hadn't changed. Derek and Stiles worked together comfortably, and who would have ever thought that would happen? There were obviously things about Stiles that grated on Derek’s nerves, and yeah, Derek made Stiles want to burst into a few long winded demonstrations as to why Stiles’ way was clearly correct, but they’d worked through those issues the summer before. Now it just felt comfortable. 

Scott and Malia came by at lunch with something Scott had whipped up; Scott had been teaching himself to cook, since Malia absolutely could not. Not only did he drive people around in a Volvo, but he made a nice casserole.

Lunch was delicious. Derek mostly ate and quietly watched the conversation, but instead of scowling through, like, 90% of what was said he laughed at maybe 20% of it. He watched them all with a soft, contented smile and threw in a quip here and there.

It made Stiles happy to see Derek at ease, eating casserole at his kitchen table.

"Hey, Der, you got a sec? I need to ask you a question about our bathrooms," Malia asked as Scott and Stiles cleared the table.

“Sure,” Derek said, then turned to Stiles and said, “We'll just be a minute.”

“You can come and go as you please,” Stiles answered, scraping some of the leftover food into the garbage disposal. “This is your house.”

Derek nodded at Stiles and followed Maila out of the loft.

“Derek's good with showers,” Scott said, joining Stiles at the sink to dry the dishes. “Have you seen his bathroom?”

It actually hadn't been done when Stiles had gone back to school; "No," Stiles answered. Derek’s entire bedroom and bathroom had just been a shell when Stiles had gone back to school.

“Dude, forget the dishes,” Scott said, throwing down the towel, "We’ll do them in a minute. Come on, you gotta see it."

Stiles looked toward the front door that Derek and Malia had just gone through.

"He won't mind. Everyone's seen it. It's amazing, Stiles."

Derek’s bathroom was located through his bedroom. “You’re sure he won’t mind us being in his bedroom?”

“We’re just walking through. He’d got an air purifier in there, anyway. We’ve all been in there. All of us at once, Stiles. The thing is huge.”

When Stiles had left for school, Derek had put up a long wire with a curtain on it to separate his bed from the area that would contain his master bath, closet, and maybe another spare bedroom. Now his bedroom was enclosed. He had a new bed, some iron canopy thing that, despite being a canopy bed was totally masculine and totally Derek. It was still rather spare but it was comfortable and the bed looked soft and squishy. There were no windows and again Derek had put in a skylight for natural light. At the back of the room was a doorway that apparently led to the bathroom.

The bathroom  _ was _ huge. Derek hadn’t put in the spare room and used up all of the space, like two apartments at Berkeley worth of space, to create the sexiest bathroom that Stiles had ever seen. Stiles hadn’t even known a bathroom could be sexy, but now he was seeing the gaps in his knowledge. 

It was dark, masculine. There wasn’t a floral towel or pink shag mat to be seen. Instead, the floors were poured concrete (‘they’re heated,’ Scott had said, pointing like a real estate agent) and the walls were covered in tiny cobalt blue tiles. 

There was a ficus. Or maybe a fig. The point was there was this enormous tree plant in an enormous clay pot in the foyer - the bathroom had a foyer, that had a huge Chinese lacquer cabinet filled with fluffy white cotton towels and bath soaps.

"He had some dehumidification system put in so that the cabinet wouldn't get too wet - it's a family heirloom. The closet, which is another thing entirely, is through there."

Stiles hadn't heard the thing about the closet, because he was staring dumbly at the red Chinese cabinet. He couldn't get past the fact that Derek Hale had a family heirloom in his home. He hadn’t even known that Derek had family heirlooms, other than the stuff in the bunker under the school. Stiles felt overwhelmingly fond and fluffy and, well, happy. The feeling came out of nowhere; one minute, he was struck dumb and the next, bam! Happy - like genuinely thrilled that Derek had a piece of furniture that had been passed down in his family.

"You ok dude?" Scott asked, smirking.

"Yeah, this is something, this room," Stiles said, slightly shaking his head.

"You haven't seen anything Stiles, come on," Scott said, waving him forward.

They turned a corner (because this bathroom was so big that it had turntable corners) and looked down into a room tiled in the same cobalt tiles. To the left was the wall of huge factory windows that Derek’s bed had once sat against. Some of the panes in the windows had been replaced with cobalt and deep green bottle glass. In front of the windows was a long dark grey concrete suspended counter the entire length of the bathroom containing two sinks. Large industrial mirrors were bolted between thick copper pipes that ran from countertop to ceiling behind the sinks. 

“He’s hoping that the copper will oxidize, and that will match the panes of glass. He’s really good at this stuff,” Scott said.

At the very end of the counter, seen through the door from the foyer, the counter was filled with orchids in clay pots. Stiles counted 14.

"He's got some way to mist the orchids," Scott said offhandedly, walking past the flowers a little further into the room.

The orchids were beautiful. One had a long fall of tiny orange-yellow flowers, one had a huge white cup shaped-flower. There were shocking pinks and deep purples and greens. There were pots that just had the beginnings of a plant, tiny slips that looked too delicate to even breathe on. It was beautiful and Stiles felt like he'd seen a part of Derek that he shouldn't have, that was beautiful and earthy and maybe a little vulnerable.

"So this is the toilet," Scott said, pointing to a dark wooden pocket door to the left.

"Classy," Stiles said of the separate toilet room that was actually a total half bath with a cool blue glass sink.

When he turned back to Scott. Scott was almost bouncing and grinning from ear to ear.

"What?" Stiles asked. Scott was doing his excited puppy thing and that always delighted Stiles and made him curious. They passed an opening. 

"Nope, don't look down there yet. It's the best part," Scott had said, hiding the view down another small hallway.

There were hallways in this bathroom. Stiles might be in love with this bathroom.

"It's the shower, Stiles, you just - come look," Scott said, delight lighting his face.

He was standing in front of the wall, the far end of the counter behind them. There was an electronic keypad about the size of an iPad in the wall. Scott touched it.

"So it's pretty intuitive…" he started.

Stiles pushed him out of the way. "The shower is run by a fucking computer?" He exclaimed with delight. First, Derek was a fucking nerd to have a computer shower. Second, how cool was it that Derek had a computer shower?

"Well, these are the controls, I don't know exactly how it runs. But Derek would… There's another keypad inside, too."

"There's two of these?" Stiles gaped, because nerd - and also, so cool!

"Well, if you want to make a change in the water or the lighting you don't want to get out because then you'd get the bathroom all wet. And with the one on the outside you can turn the water on so it's hot when you get in. He's got one of those instant hot water heaters, so you don't have to wait for it to get hot," Scott explained. 

"You are kidding me," Stiles said, pushing Scott out of the way again.

He turned the corner (because corners in a bathroom are a thing), and there was a long expanse of thick frosted floor to ceiling glass to the left.

"Wait," Scott said, grinning. He pushed the keypad and the glass became clear.

"That is sick," Stiles exclaimed.

"I know," Scott agreed. "Malia and I are totally getting it."

On the wall opposite the expanse of glass was a large floor to ceiling mirror bolted directly onto the cobalt tiled wall. It was very industrial. Sort of locker room. But luxury, manly locker room. There was a teak bench stacked with towels and wash clothes at the end of the little hallway. An enormous jade plant covered in tiny white flowers sat on a small table in the corner.

Like Stiles said, it was sexy. Really damn fucking sexy.

“I’ve never seen flowers on a jade plant,” Stiles remarked to himself.

“Derek’s amazing with plants. Total green thumb. He was pretty excited when it started flowering,” Scott said of the jade plant.

Inside the shower, or rather, through the massive shower door, also fancy magic glass, was another room, really, but it was like some massive shower wonderland.

Scott turned to the keypad.

"Whoa," Stiles said, not really wanting to get his clothes drenched.

"Don't worry. Just stand here and you won't get wet," Scott said and continued to fool around with the keypad.

"So this is the not wet section of shower paradise," Stiles quipped, looking around. 

Scott giggled. "I know, right? It's insane."

He saw a huge flat shower head flush with the ceiling, a large flat waterfall shower head on the far wall, and a fancy chrome detachable showerhead to the left. In the far left corner was a large recessed area with a teak bench. The corner of that area looked to be where Derek kept his shower products and there was a white towel rolled up on the bench, like you'd see in a picture for a fancy spa.

Stiles had a momentary flash of Derek standing under the flat shower head, the water flowing down his head, drenching the triskele, and continuing down his body. He probably had those sexy butt dimples. Who was Stiles kidding? Derek Hale definitely had sexy butt dimples, and thick corded back muscles...

Scott pushed a button the lights cycled through a few choices until it was soft but bright, like early morning.

"It's got all of these settings, come look," Scott said, snapping Stiles out of his daydream.

He did not need to be thinking about Derek Hale's wet, muscular back when he was still feeling like a relationship failure. And also because they were friends. 

‘You are Friends with Derek Hale,’ Stiles said to himself in his head. ‘You are not trying to bone him anymore.’

There was literally a catalogue of light settings. There was  _ early morning _ and  _ quick shower _ and  _ romantic moonlight _ . Stiles chose _ romantic moonlight _ , because who wouldn't, and the cobalt tiles turned iridescent and sparkly, like stars, and the lights dimmed, drenching the shower in peak cobalt manly shower sexiness. 

It was possible Stiles wanted to fuck this shower. 

Stiles turned it back to early morning and poked the keypad again.

"You can cycle through the showers, you can turn them on all at once or one at a time, it's even heated with speakers in the walls." Scott said. He was obviously in love with the shower, too.

"This is one hell of a bathroom." Stiles said. Because what else can you say. 

"I keep telling Derek that this bathroom should be in Architectural Digest," Scott said.

“It really should,” Stiles agreed. It was amazing. 

In fact, Derek's entire loft should be in Architectural Digest. It was gorgeous. And Derek had designed and built a lot of it himself. Stiles had thought it was because he wanted to design his own den; truthfully, he hadn't been expecting much. He hadn't seen the finished picture, though, and it was an incredible space.

"He has no idea how amazing what he's doing with this building is, does he?"

"He tells me he just wants to make a space for the pack. A place where we can all live if we want to. That his mom would have wanted the money to be used for something like that. And he has plans for the other spaces, too. Apartments to bring in income, office spaces, maybe shops and restaurants down the road. I mean, it's a huge building, so we’re talking years down the line; he and Malia have a whole 25-year plan. She likes Coyote Shark, by the way," Scott added as an afterthought.

Derek was helping Scott build the pack by bringing them all together in one space. He was building dream lofts for everyone and had a business plan. And he was honoring his parents by doing so.

"I had no idea…" Stiles said

"Yeah, it's pretty impressive.” Scott said, looking at nothing. After a moment he continued, “You gotta know that it hasn't been all smooth sailing for him. He has days when he hides and the crew works on their own. They're a good crew. He struggles still. Which is part of the reason I'm glad you're here."

"It's like for a few weeks Scott."

Scott looked grave. "Mom says it could be a lot longer. It's this new disease and it's bad. No one's immune and it takes a long time to develop a vaccine. If the plan is social distancing, then we might be social distancing a long time. Anyhow, it's nice he's not alone so much now. He's smiling more."

"He's changed a lot, even since last summer. He seems - content. It's nice," Stiles said.

Scott smiled. "We're all happy for him," he said.

Stiles was, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an [ active Sterek blog](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fyeahsterek72); updates are published there. Come join me!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made a soundtrack, because this is Teen Wolf on MTv, and there should be a new song every five minutes, or at least each chapter. It is a work in progress until the story is completed, but there will be a link to the song and a link to the whole song list
> 
> [Great Bi Awakening Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLoYDiCGS25o3pdlzCcwlwhjDbWDnhs2Bh)

The next two days Stiles tried to figure out how to do his classes remotely, had a Zoom meeting with his study group, and wrote a paper on various iterations of the Mothman through history for his Contemporary Urban Legends class while Derek worked on Scott and Malia's loft. The second day he made chicken for dinner, because he could cook, too, and they sat on the couch and watched  _ Into the Spiderverse _ while they ate.

"You know, this loft is amazing, Derek. You did a great job on it," Stiles said.

"Thanks," Derek said. He sounded bashful, and that was all sorts of adorable. Derek was adorable.

"You really like doing this stuff, building and construction and design."

"Yeah, I always have. I was studying architecture in New York… Well, I didn't get that far with it,” Derek said. He paused for a moment as if he was trying to say what he wanted to say. He finally said, “I had trouble focusing on the classes. It was a difficult time."

Stiles was not good at being a psychologist. He was basically a smart ass who couldn't shut his mouth. He wanted to acknowledge that Derek was talking about the worst time of his life, though, so he said, "Derek, I'm so sorry about everything that's happened to you. I just - I don't even know how to say this…"

"It's okay," Derek said, cutting Stiles off.

"No, I want to say something to you. You are a good person. And you're a nice person. And you care about people and you had everything you care about… It's not fair what happened to you. And I know life isn't fair, but I wish it hadn't happened to you. I hope that you know that you didn’t deserve it and that someday you will truly believe that none of it was your fault." When Derek didn’t say anything, he added, “You’re my friend, Derek. You’re right here,” he said, putting a fist to his chest, right over his heart. ”You’re a good person. And that’s all, I think.”

Derek was looking down at the food on his lap. He had a soft, slightly sad expression on his face. He looked open. Vulnerable. When he turned to look at Stiles his eyes were bright blue. It was arresting.

"Thank you, Stiles. No one's ever said anything like that to me before," Derek whispered. It was obvious that Derek was having trouble engaging in the conversation, but he was still doing it, and he was accepting the compliments.

"Well, I mean it."

"I know you do," Derek said softly, looking down at his food again. He moved his food around for a moment, blinked a couple of times and tentatively said, "Beacon Community is offering this drafting class that I thought I might take. Before there was too much happening and I just wasn't…” he drifted off, seemingly unable to complete the thought.

"Yeah, I know," Stiles said gently. "But everyone keeps telling me that things are good here, and you seem happy. You should do it."

"I am - happy. I didn't know how to be happy for a long time. And I wasn't.” Derek was suddenly staring into Stiles eyes. Derek had always had the most beautiful eyes and Stiles found himself fixed on them.

"I mean, that's understandable. You've been through a lot, Derek," he said, although he was finding it difficult to talk and stare into Derek's eyes at the same time.

"Dr Richardson told me one of the first times that I talked to him that no one that is as down as I was ever thinks it's going to get better but if you just keep going, if you work at it, it will. I didn't believe him when he said that to me." Derek was looking at Stiles meaningfully. 

"Yeah," Stiles said. Because (a) - meaningful, haunted Derek eyes (really, the only reason needed, but also) (b) - there were days, a lot of them, when he didn’t believe that the dark hole would ever feel better. That he wouldn’t be exhausted from simply trying to look like he was Totally Fine! That he didn’t have vague, dark, terrifying dreams that felt endless and limitless and beyond time and inevitable.

"But it does, Stiles,” Derek said. The desire for Stiles to really believe this was evident in his eyes. “It might take a long time, but it does."

"I still have these awful nightmares," Stiles blurted out, and Derek just stayed silent and waited for Stiles to go on. "Dr Richardson says that I have a dark spot on my soul from the Nogitsune. That any time someone gets possessed the demon leaves behind traces of itself. That, combined with sacrificing myself for my dad - breaking the veil is something that the living aren't supposed to do - well, it's a miracle that I'm not insane. Oh, and the Hunt." He’d never really been that open with anyone, not even with Scott - not even with Lydia - about his talks with Dr Richardson. 

Derek felt safe in a way that Stiles never felt with anyone else. Had never felt with anyone else.

"You're so strong, Stiles," Derek said, his gaze softening. "Do you know that, that you're strong?"

"Everybody says that, but I don't feel strong,” Stiles didn’t even know how the words were coming out of his mouth. Because these were things that he did not admit. To anyone. “Nothing about me feels strong. I feel like - sometimes I feel like one little push and I’ll break into thousands of tiny pieces. And then there will just be thousands of me that feel the same way and then they’ll shatter…” He stared off into nothing when he said, “Some days that worries me, but some days I wish it would happen, because it feels so inevitable. Maybe that's why I keep playing lacrosse, so I can actually feel strong at something.”

Derek didn’t say anything for a minute but his face said, ‘I understand that more than you realize.’ He finally said, “Scott says you're really good.”

“Yeah, well, he said that when I spent the whole season on the bench,” Stiles answered dismissively.

Derek looked gravely at Stiles and said, “That’s a thing you do - and I do it too. Quit putting yourself down, Stiles. It's okay to be good at something. You’re good at lacrosse.”

Everything in Stiles wanted to make some snarky comment or deflect somehow. Deflection was his life. He was good at it. But coming from Derek, a man who had hated himself when Stiles first met him and now was admitting to being happy, it meant a lot.

"Okay," Stiles said.

"Okay?" Derek 

"Probably not really, because this is me, but I'll try."

"Okay. Hey Stiles?" Derek asked.

"Yeah?"

"Are you good at lacrosse?"

"I mean, I won an award…," Stiled started.

"So you're good at lacrosse," Derek pushed, a small smile on his face.

Stiles huffed irritably. "Yes, okay? Yes, I'm good at lacrosse. I've played it for -"

Derek broke in. "So you're good at lacrosse," he stated.

"Yes," Stiles said, more irritated than before, but he knew what Derek was trying to do and why was it so difficult to just admit he was good at something? "I am good at lacrosse. I won an award," he said with finality.

"What was the award for?" Derek asked.

"It was all around player of the year."

"That's awesome, Stiles," Derek congratulated.

"Okay, but you already knew that," Stiles answered.

Derek looked at him with one eyebrow raised. It was the get-with-the-program look that Stiles had gotten a lot in high school. He actually sort of missed that look.

"Thank you for the acknowledgement of my hard earned award," Stiles said.

Derek smiled. "You're welcome Stiles."

They ate for a bit in silence when Stiles said, "By the way, awesome bathroom. Scott showed it to me."

Derek's cheeks were suddenly red. "He said it would be okay…," Stiles started.

"It's okay," Derek said. He was very interested in his chicken suddenly.

"It's amazing, really. It's sort of beautiful,” Stiles said, conversationally. “And very manly, which I suppose makes sense, what with you being, well, you. And that shower! Who needs a shower that big? I mean, have whatever shower you want, but it's  _ some _ shower, Derek."

"It's sort of a dream shower," Derek said, suddenly bashful.

"Well, you deserve it. It's amazing." Stiles said. Bashful Derek was becoming one of Stiles’ favorites.

Derek continued to be very interested in his chicken.

"Hey, Derek?" Stiles asked, and Derek looked up at him. Stiles continued, “There’s someone sitting on this couch that built a fucking amazing shower. Who is that person, I wonder?”

Derek smiled sheepishly, once again fully invested in his chicken. "Yeah, yeah. Okay. It was me," Derek begrudgingly answered.

"You know, I'm thinking: it could probably win all around if it improved it's grades. It has two computers after all. Two fucking computers! You built a computer shower, Derek!" Stiles exclaimed in geeky delight.

Derek's smile brightened and he laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an [ active Sterek blog](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fyeahsterek72); updates are published there. Come join me!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made a soundtrack, because this is Teen Wolf on MTv, and there should be a new song every five minutes, or at least each chapter. It is a work in progress until the story is completed, but there will be a link to the song and a link to the whole song list
> 
> [One Republic - Everybody Loves Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j8sb_Or0FUs&list=PLoYDiCGS25o3pdlzCcwlwhjDbWDnhs2Bh&index=4&t=0s) (Also the official song of Jackson Whittemore)
> 
> [Great Bi Awakening Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLoYDiCGS25o3pdlzCcwlwhjDbWDnhs2Bh)

Two days later, completely out of the blue, Jackson and Ethan showed up. Jackson’s mother had called them up once the virus entered Europe and told them that if they wanted to get back to the States before things started shutting down that they could stay with her. They’d gotten in a few days ago and had just signed a lease on an apartment in the same building Chris and Melissa now lived in. When Scott had found out that they were in town he’d invited them over to pick out a loft space if they were interested.

Apparently Jackson had told Ethan that he trusted him to pick out a living space, or at least to look at what was available. And when Ethan wandered to parts unknown with Scott and Malia, Jackson had headed up to Derek’s loft.

Derek had actually been heading out the door. He had a meeting with Boyd about a structural issue in their loft. Derek had explained it all to Stiles: there were load bearing things and it could change the layout and the kitchen might have to be relocated. Boyd was on a tight schedule with his new job at the police station, so after a quick hello he ran out the door, telling Jackson to make himself at home.

Jackson sauntered into the loft, his hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored, expensive looking trousers and took a minute to look around, smiling in approval.

Stiles watched Jackson from the couch, where he had nested with his laptop, phone, a huge cup of coffee, and a bag of Twizzlers. He was still in his sleep clothes and his general state of poor hygiene was amplified by the mound of tissues that had built up around him. He was allergic to pine, yew, sycamore, maple and elm and also lived in a forest. So sue him.

“You know, I’m relatively certain that you’re not supposed to be here,” he finally said. “Social distancing?”

“Werewolf.” Jackson answered, as if that finalized everything.

"You could be a carrier?,” Stiles said.

Jackson blew out disbelievingly through his mouth. “Doubtful,” he stated, and then continued, “I know what you’re thinking: dogs are carriers and I’m a werewolf and so maybe I’m a carrier. Well that’s fucking ridiculous. First of all, I’m a werewolf, not a dog. Totally different immunities. Second of all, some researchers that we know in Prague, who are, coincidentally, werewolves, figured out a week ago that werewolves aren’t carriers. I didn’t want to come home to my mom without knowing.”

“Wow,” Stiles said, continuing, “I think that’s the most that you’ve talked to me without threatening me or looking disgusted with me in, like, ever.”

Jackson sat in one of the chairs on the other side of the room and looked at the floor. “Lydia called me a few days ago. She told me that you two had broken up.”

“I figured,” Stiles mumbled. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to Jackson, per se, because if Jackson was going to be nice, he could be nice. But he didn’t want to talk about Lydia.

“I’ve been there, Stilinski. I get it. And for what it’s worth, Ethan and I were sure you two were going to have a whole house full of red-headed, annoying children who never shut up. So, I guess what I’m saying is, I’m sorry.

Stiles looked at Jackson. “Thanks, Jackson. That means a lot coming from you.”

He crawled out from under his mountain of Kleenex and gathered them all up to throw away. Heading over to the kitchen, he said, “You want something to drink? I need some water. And Ibuprofen. I’m getting a headache.”

“I’ll take a water,” Jackson said, rising to look at the books in Derek’s bookshelves. “He likes to read.”

“That’s not all of them, either,” Stiles remarked from the kitchen. “There’s books in all the bedrooms, too.”

Stiles brought the water to Jackson. Jackson looked Stiles over and said, “You know, he’s into you.”

“Okay,” Stiles said, because what the actual fuck. “First of all, what the fuck, Jackson! I just broke up with Lydia!”

“When was the last time you saw her. Not through Skype, but actually face to face?” Jackson asked, like he already knew the answer.

“Have you been talking to her?”

“I already told you that she called me,” Jackson said, clearly exasperated. “We talked for a long time. She needed to talk to someone. I learned stuff. So answer the question.”

Lydia hadn’t come home for Christmas and Stiles hadn’t had the money to fly out to see her. So it had been Thanksgiving. Stiles hadn’t actually been in Lydia’s presence for over 3 months.

Jackson must have seen the realization on Stiles’ face. “She doesn’t blame you for any of it, Stilinski. That’s not what this is about.”

“Before I called her to stay with her, I hadn’t talked to her in weeks. We just fought all the time. It wasn’t - it was difficult to talk to her. It had gotten bad.”

“She didn’t go into a lot of detail, but she basically said the same thing. You two have been apart for a long time.”

“We’ve been broken up for months,” Stiles said, more to himself than Jackson, even though Jackson would obviously hear what he’d just said.

Jackson didn’t say anything for a few minutes, letting Stiles stew over the revelation. Stiles went back to his place on the couch and wrapped the blanket around him like a cocoon. 

He stared off into space for a few more minutes chewing on his lip and then said, “I’m sorry, what was it we were talking about, before Lydia?”

Jackson smiled. “How Derek is into you.”

Stiles snapped to attention again and said, “Even if Lydia and I - it was two and a half years! That’s the longest I’ve ever been in a relationship. There’s got to be a mourning period and - I loved her. I still love her. But there were times when I hated her, too.”

“Been there. I get it, Stilinski,”

Stiles wrapped himself up more in his cocoon. “It’s just, I don’t know how to talk about these things with you. You’ve never been nice to me before.”

“Well, what can I say,” Jackson said, looking off into space, continuing, “I grew the fuck up. Ethan helped with that.” When Stiles didn’t say anything, Jackson said, “Also, I’m bi, and I was there for the Great Bi Awakening,”

“Ughh, don’t. I was so - ” Stiles protested.

‘Annoying? Everyone in the whole fucking school was there for the Great Bi Awakening. It should tell you something that it has a name. And that everyone, and I do mean everyone, knows it.”

“And it’s not like that anymore anyway. We’re friends. Really good ones. But that’s all.”

“Whatever,” Jackson said. “Just try not to hurt him.”

“I'm not going to hurt him! I would never hurt him! After what he’s had to go through already? And it doesn’t matter anyway, because we are Friends.” Stiles said with finality. He knew he was getting edgy, and he didn’t stop himself from saying, “And since when are you Mr. Relationship?” 

Which, predictably, made Jackson angry, which somehow felt more normal than the civilized, adult conversation that they were having.

“Look, Stilinski,” Jackson said, his voice rising in anger. He then closed his eyes, took a deep breath as if to calm himself, and continued, “it may have been lost on you but Ethan and I have been together a long time. We're happy. I’m actually in a stable, healthy, happy relationship with someone I love. So who here is qualified to give relationship advice?”

The thing was, Jackson was right. But he didn’t want to admit it. “I’m sorry, Jackson.” Stiles said, deflated. “This whole you being nice to me thing is just new and also, I am a fucking failure at relationships. Okay?”

“You’re not a failure. It just wasn’t right. Don’t let the fact that it didn’t work with Lydia keep you from trying with someone else.”

“That was surprisingly good advice,” Stiles commented.

“I do that from time to time, give good advice,” Jackson said breezily. “And also, he is into you.”

“How do you know?” Stiles demanded, getting agitated again. Because this was seriously not a conversation that he wanted to be having with Jackson, of all people. “It’s not like he told you; I know he didn’t, because he’d never do that.”

“Werewolf,” Jackson said again. 

“What, like you smell it or his heart rate goes up or what? Because you say he’s into me, but where’s the proof?”

“Why do you even care if he’s just your friend?” Jackson challenged.

Stiles sighed. “I fuck everything up, okay? I’ve got a dark, twisted head and I can’t shut the fuck up and if I was in a relationship with him - we’re friends, and do you know how long it took to get to that?”

“You were always friends. He always came to you when he needed something and you always went to his rescue. Back then, though, you obviously only wanted him for his dick and he’d been so dicked around already that he didn’t know how to deal with anyone, much less some hyper kid who clearly wanted to be dicked down by him. Also, he had to deal with the fact that he was into an underaged guy, so there was that.”

Stiles was chewing on his lip. The truth was that yes, if Derek Hale wanted to start something with him, he would not say no. Are you kidding me? Derek Hale is beautiful. His body is a fucking work of art. And the eyes and that smile that lights up his eyes. And he’s smart, and has a sarcastic streak, and a total nerd who could quote Star Wars, thank you very much Scott McCall. But more important than all of that, Derek was an awesome person. 

But also, Derek Hale was sex on a stick, and there was no way Stiles could deny it.

He was also vulnerable and had been hurt terribly by the people that he’d cared about. His life was a Shakespearean tragedy. He didn’t need to have to deal with all of the shit that Stiles was carrying, too.

Jackson walked back around to where Stiles was balled up in his blanket and crouched in front of him.

“After I broke up with Lydia I didn’t think that I could ever find anyone or anything that measured up to her. And she’s amazing, so I didn’t want to hurt her. But then Ethan came along and I took a chance. Three and a half years now, Stiles. Dr. Richardson helped me work through some shit. He's still seeing patients online. You need to call him.”

Stiles nodded his head in agreement.

“Also, and I’m just putting this out there,” Jackson continued, “call Lydia. She knows that you’re staying with Derek . . .”

“Who keeps telling Lydia stuff about me?” Stiles said,

“You both have the same friends, Stilinski, get with the program. You know Malia and Erica are telling her everything.”

Stiles scowled in displeasure.

“Just call her. It’s not as if she wasn’t there for the Great Bi Awakening, too. She knows how you feel about Derek. She’s a genius; she’ll probably be disappointed that you aren’t boning him already.”

“Pff, now, that's just not true! She would expect a proper mourning period. She deserves it,” Stiles said. Because she did.

“Call her,” Jackson urged, and then, in typical Jackson fashion, said, “Grow a pair Stilinski. Deal with your shit. Call her.”

“Okay,” Stiles said to end the conversation. He had no intention of calling Lydia. “So does this mean we’re friends now?” he asked Jackson.

Jackson looked at Stiles like he was the most stupid person who ever lived. “Well, duh,” he said. “I mean, what do you need, a ‘Let’s Be Friends’ card?”

“Or a present. I’m not picky.”

Jackson rolled his eyes but smiled. “Whatever, Stilinski,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an [ active Sterek blog](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fyeahsterek72); updates are published there. Come join me!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made a soundtrack, because this is Teen Wolf on MTv, and there should be a new song every five minutes, or at least each chapter. It is a work in progress until the story is completed, but there will be a link to the song and a link to the whole song list
> 
> [The Phantoms - Watch Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QZ_v2wkBt3k)
> 
> [Great Bi Awakening Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLoYDiCGS25o3pdlzCcwlwhjDbWDnhs2Bh)

So Jackson was his friend now, too. Which was solidified the next day when he came with lunch (burgers and curly fries) and presents for both Derek and him.

“You're going to want to open that in your room,” he said to Stiles when he handed him a large gift bag with tissue paper at the top.

“Why?” Stiles asked, with equal parts curiosity and fear.

“Just listen to me and enjoy,” he’d answered, and refused to speak about it anymore.

He'd bought Stiles _The Joy of Gay Sex_ , lube (Pjur Back Door Lubricant - he'd bought Stiles possibly the gayest lube Stiles had ever seen), and a butt plug trainer set. He stared at the book, lube, and butt plugs for a long time, not knowing what to think about Jackson’s choice of a gift. It was pretty typical Jackson, but what the hell! You don’t just buy butt plugs for someone, and also, what the hell!

Later that night he texted Jackson, **_What the actual fuck, Jackson_ **

**_Thought it would all come in handy_ ** **🍆💦💦🍆💦💦**

‘Well,’ Stiles, thought, ‘time to blow Jackson’s mind.’ 

**_You can have the butt plugs back. Don't need them._ **

And then, as if it was an afterthought, he added, **_Already have one. It's huge and vibrates. Also, lydia has a strap on._ **

**_Jesus you're braver than I thought._ ** Jackson answered. **_Keep the plugs._ **

**_Question: is knotting a thing?_ **Stiles texted, because why not? Also, this was Jackson, and he’d never had the opportunity to mess with Jackson (without fearing for his life).

 **_The fuck is knotting?_ **was the reply.

**_Okay. Not real then._ **

Around two minutes later, Stiles’ phone dinged again. **_Jesus Christ! Why would you ask that?_ **

**_So no? And fanfiction._ **Stiles answered

**_No nerd! Enjoy the book. Try not to jizz all over it. U won't be able to put it in Derek's library_ **

Oh, so now the gloves were coming off. **_What even is this convo_ **, Stiles texted back.

**_You’re the one with the dick knot fetish_ **

**_You’re so fun_ ** **😘** , Stiles texted

 **_He wants to bone you. Read the book._ **

**_2 and a half years!,_ **protested Stiles

 **_Cry and then bone him,_ **was Jackson’s reply.

**_I'm a fucking mess._ **

**_Call Dr Richardson then bone him. Go away. I’m busy,_ **replied Jackson.

 ** _You started it,_** Stiles protested, because Very Gay Lube and trainer set.

 ** _Rubber glue,_** Jackson texted back, followed by,

 ** _Leave me the fuck alone. Gonna get laid,_** which was followed by,

**_Read the book and think of me._ **

**_I'm not into pretty boys,_ **Stiles texted.

 **_Not unless they have a beard_** , Jackson answered.

 **_What kind of friend even are you,_ ** Stiles asked

**_One who is facilitating your great bi awakening._ **

**_Oh so you're my experienced gay mentor. Is that what this is?,_ **Stiles texted back.

 **_Ethan's rubbing my cock,_ **Jackson said.

Stiles threw his phone across the room. He Did Not want that imagery in his head.

The worst part of it was that he was horny now, but that made him angry because he was a relationship failure and it was Jackson that had made him horny and eww! Jackson! Also, Derek was his friend and he didn't want to fuck that up and he was so fucking messed up. 

Just SO messed up.

Even Dr. Richardson wouldn't diagnose him with anything specific. Well, beyond PTSD, but who the hell didn't have PTSD. Apparently he just had a darkened soul but that was counteracted by acts of loyalty, love, and bravery. Like he has fucking Severus Snape or something. Well, not like that, but he wanted a comparison and Dr. Richardson wouldn't do that and so Snape it was.

The point was, he was fucked up and didn't really think he was in new and improved territory yet. He'd failed with Lydia, who he loved but just not the right way or something. And sure, Derek was the impetus of the Great Bi Awakening, but now Derek was a human being - a werewolf human being, but whatever - and he really respected him and he thought he was a great person who'd been dealt a shit hand and he really truly was just an awesome friend.

Plus what the fuck was it with everyone being so invested in his sex life? People weren’t invested in his sex life - he was Stiles trip-over-your-feet Stilinski (and yes, he did still trip over his feet All The Time). Quite frankly, it made him feel weird. 

Objectified. 

Okay not really, because it was just Scott, who was the best person in the world, hands down, and was the best cheerleader a guy could have, and Jackson, who was a douche but now his friend who apparently wanted to corrupt him and maybe mentor him? 

Oh my god, did he want to be his Gay Daddy? Did he?? I mean, who buys someone butt plugs? Trainer plugs even! What the actual fuck?! Stiles did not want to even approach the ways that Daddy Jackson both turned him on and also made him want to vomit. 

He got out of bed and picked his phone up, which, thankfully, was fine - Otter case, good for clumsy, spaz types - and quickly flicked away the Jackson convo and opened the Scott convo:

 **_Scott, does Jackson want to be my daddy? I mean like sexually?,_ **he texted.

 **_The fuck Stiles? And Malia says def no,_ **was Scott’s reply.

**_Because I just had a v fucked convo_ **

He took screen shots of the conversation and texted them to Scott.

After a few minutes, Scott texted back, **_Okay first, wow. 2 -he bought you the joy of gay sex and a butt plug?_ **

**_Butt plugSSS. Trainer set. Plural. And Very Gay lube,_ **Stiles emphasized.

 **_Third, knotting? Really?,_ **Scott continued and then added.

**_I thought we'd put that one to bed, Stiles._ **

This was quickly followed by, **_4th, he's a total douche did this to all of us during lacrosse. he's got exhibitionism thing I don't judge. I have dick picks Stiles_ **

Stiles snorted and texted, **_You've led a much pornier life than I ever imagined, AZ Fell. Why have you kept them?_ **

**_I didnt I mean I had them now! They are gone! I deleted them!,_ **Scott insisted.

 **_Sure,_ **Stiles replied

 **_Fourth it wouldnt hurt to have a gay mentor,_ **Scott continued

**_1 - we are at fifth 2 - wtf Scott._ **

**_Sixth - he WAS there for the Great bi Awakening,_ **Scott maintained.

 **_Seventh - who says you can't be friends with the one you fuck? It's pretty awesome, Stiles. You should try it,_ **Scott asked, and then texted.

 ** _When you're there,_** and then

 ** _Also, Malia says Derek might totally want to bang you,_** quickly followed by

 ** _She doesn't want to commit to anything,_** then

 ** _bc she's not sure about Derek's headspace,_** and then

 ** _and you just broke up with Lydia,_** again followed by

 **_like a week ago_ **, Scott finally finished. Stiles loved Scott's run-on text convos.

 **_What about you?_ **Stiles asked.

**_What?_ **

**_Does Derek want to bang me?,_ **He clarified.

**_Wow, really?_ **

**_Yes does he,_ **Stiles texted back, because this was a relatively important sticking point.

 **_You2 r good friends,_ ** _Scott replied and then texted,_

 **_Be his friend,_ **followed by.

**_See what happens._ **

**_Not an answer but ok,_ **Stiles sent, and then texted,

**_In summary: jackson is a douche who is now my gay mentor friend, and stuff about Derek._ **

**_Yes_ ** 😇 **_Stuff about Derek_ **

**_Okay. Night._ **Stiles finished.

 **_Night._ **Scott replied.

xxx

15 minutes later, he got a picture of balled up underwear, an open condom wrapper, and an open bottle of lube that was pooling all over the rug.

 **_Putting it on Insta,_ **Jackson said.

 **_Perv,_ **Stiles replied.

 **_Have your pity party and blow him Stilinski. Page 123. Write a report._ **

Page 123 was not blow jobs but uncircumcised penises. 

Stiles snorted. He texted, **_How is Finstock._ **

And then continued, **_We should visit him. Let him know I'm_ ** **🔥🔥🔥** **_He'd_ ** **❤❤❤** **_that_ **

**_Go to sleep stilinski,_ **was Jackson’s reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an [ active Sterek blog](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fyeahsterek72); updates are published there. Come join me!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made a soundtrack, because this is Teen Wolf on MTv, and there should be a new song every five minutes, or at least each chapter. It is a work in progress until the story is completed, but there will be a link to the song and a link to the whole song list
> 
> [Tyler Ward - Out of the Woods](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oJ_XbCFc2Ho)
> 
> [Great Bi Awakening Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLoYDiCGS25o3pdlzCcwlwhjDbWDnhs2Bh)

The next morning Stiles woke up with a sore throat. He was allergic to pine (and every other tree in existence) and lived in the middle of a rainforest so he didn't think much of it.

At breakfast (because Derek made french toast with raspberries and powdered sugar), Stiles started to feel dizzy. And hot but cold and clammy too. All at once.

Derek was at his side in an instant. “What's wrong?” he asked, the worry clear on his face.

“S'okay, I'm just dizzy,” Stiles tried to reassure, but he was now slurring his speech, and that wasn’t good.

“Your throat hurts, too,” Derek pointed out.

“How did you know that?” Stiles asked, because Derek was psychic or something, because his throat felt like fire and knives and cutting glass. It wasn’t nice.

“You wince when you swallow,” Derek answered, examining Stiles' face, his eyebrows all scrunchy.

“Allergies,” Stiles said, trying to sound reassuring.

“And you're sweaty,” Derek continued. “And paler than usual.” 

“Hey, I burn in the sun. Cancer is bad. Also, it's really hot in here,” Stiles answered, because what the fuck? Did Derek turn the heat up to 1000?

“It's not hot in here,” Derek said. “It's no different than yesterday. I'm calling Melissa.”

“It's nothing Derek,” Stiles said, because Melissa was busy and he was totally okay. Or maybe not. But he didn’t need Melissa to come over here. He’d be fine!

“You have coronavirus symptoms, Stiles, and you just got sent home because your school had cases of it,” Derek pointed out, grabbing his phone from the counter.

“I do not have coronavirus,” Stiles said, because that was ridiculous. He was young and healthy and he didn’t have coronavirus. He had declared it.

But Derek called Melissa anyways, because of course he did, and he made Stiles lie down on the couch and covered him up with a blanket that he got out of a basket that seriously was made of clouds, it was so soft and fluffy. And then, just to show Stiles how much he knew him, he got him coffee. Sweet, sweet coffee. Liquid of life.

Melissa showed up just as Stiles was trying to decide whether he could skip classes. Because he didn't feel good. Like genuinely, not at all. In fact, he felt like total crap. She was wearing a white, medical bunny suit, some sort of fancy looking mask, and a plastic astronaut face shield thing, like the dentist always wore.

Stiles had opened his mouth to ask, 'What the actual fuck?' when Melissa put up her hand to silence him.

"This is serious Stiles, this virus. It's deadlier than the flu and highly contagious. Derek if you haven't already, stock up. Two months worth of shelf stable goods. Think about personal hygiene, cold products, toilet paper. It's gonna get bad.”

"Seriously?" Stiles asked. He'd had no idea. I mean, it wasn't Ebola or anything. And kids didn't get it, which wasn't good for old people. And old people are awesome so that's not great either.

"And you don't realize you're talking again," Melissa muttered, mostly to herself, while at the same time using a temporal thermometer on Stiles and scowling at the number. 

Stiles blinked. "No, I did not know I was saying that out loud, but like that's anything new," he pouted.

Derek was looking down at the floor, arms crossed, stifling a smile. He also looked constipated and worried that Stiles was critically ill, but he was smiling, too, which was all sorts of endearing.

"Well, you definitely have a fever,” Melissa said to herself, and then said, “Look Stiles, we're already seeing COVID at General and people are dying of it in Washington. It cannot be contained, no matter what anyone is saying. Some people get it, they don't know they have it, and so they go about their business passing it on to others."

"So I really could have coronavirus?" Stiles asked, more than a little chagrined and shocked.

"Yes, you could," Melissa said while writing on the side of a long tube. 

Derek gave him a 'see, I was right' look.'

"Okay, Derbear, right again," Stiles capitulated.

"Please don't call me Derbear. We've been through this…" Derek said, letting out the sigh of the long-suffering.

"But it's an awesome nickname," Stiles protested. Derek scowled at him.

Melissa cleared her throat, smiling just a little. "Sorry to break up the conversation boys, but Stiles, do you live among or have you been in close contact with anyone from the Wuhan province of China or who has traveled there recently? Know anyone who has been diagnosed with COVID-19?"

"Um, I don't know. Maybe?" Stiles answered. "I know Chinese people. Zhang in my study group is from Shanghai."

Melissa shook her head. "Okay, so here's the deal," she said, pulling open the tube and withdrawing a tiny cotton swab on the end of a long, thin wire. "You're young and we don't have a lot of tests for COVID. We're saving them for people with underlying conditions - the elderly, heart problems and the like. But I can test you for influenza. It's going around right now and the symptoms are similar."

"But I got a flu shot," Stiles protested, looking warily at the swab.

"This flu variety wasn't included in the shot this year, unfortunately. Sometimes they don’t predict the virulent strains correctly and then our flu season gets bad.” She gave Stiles her clinical, this is for your own good look and said, “So I'm going to shove this swab further up your nose than you could ever imagine it will go. I'll be quick but you aren't going to like it.”

"And why do I have to do this?" Stiles asked, eyeing the swab warily.

"If you have COVID-19, you are in isolation until you haven't had a fever for 72 hours. You could possibly need hospitalization. If this comes back negative, we can't say definitively that you do have COVID, but you will be treated like you do." When Melissa saw that her argument wasn’t convincing Stiles she sighed and said, "This is all new, Stiles, and we're figuring it out as we go along. Just please let me do the test. It will make your dad happier if you do."

Stiles sighed. Leave it to Melissa to use his weakness to conquer him. She was hardcore. Nurses were so fucking hardcore, man. 

"Alright," he said grudgingly, tilted back his head, and squeezed his eyes shut. 

She shoved the death wire up into his brain. That was now it's official name: death wire. It was quick but it was this horrible combination of burning and tickling and shoving into your brain that Stiles could have done without.

Melissa was nothing if not efficient. "That was terrible but you're a bad ass, mommy Melissa," Stiles said while scrunching his nose. And rubbing it with tissues that had materialized from thin air. And repeatedly blowing it. Also, his eyes were watering. It wasn’t pretty. 

Melissa gave her huge, half-embarrassed but genuinely touched smile. "You're a pain in my ass, Mieczyslaw, but I love you anyway, mijo. And don't hug me! No hugging," she insisted when he went to engulf her in his arms.

She started to pack up the tote that she'd brought with her. "Is there anything I can get for you?" she asked Derek, who shook his head no.

"I think we're pretty good," he answered.

"Okay. You know how to reach me," she said, wagging her finger at him, implying that he'd better call if he needed anything. "And until these results come back no one visits and you are to go nowhere. Normally, I'd tell you to stay in your room but Derek is a werewolf so…"

"Super immunity!" Stiles supplied.

"Yep," Melissa agreed. "But maybe, Derek, if you go out, shower and clean clothes first and the same when you get home. To keep him well," she said, looking pointedly at Stiles. Like Stiles said, Melissa was hardcore and using all of her ammunition. Derek shook his head ‘yes’ gravely. "We don't understand the carrier status yet, Derek. Oh, and Clorox cleaner or household bleach on any non-upholstered surface he's touched in the last week."

"Seriously? I'll get a migraine!" Stiles protested.

"Okay, 50/50 mixture, open the windows. Air this place out. Oh, and Derek, I have a dieffenbachia for you. I'll leave it with Scott somehow."

"A diffenwhatia?" Stiles asked.

"It's a floor plant," Derek supplied.

Melissa continued speaking as she headed for the door. "Oh, fluids, lots of rest, try to get him to eat, and call me if you have trouble breathing."

"Right," Derek said

"I'm serious about the no one visiting thing," Melissa said, pointing at Stiles. "Even Scott. Even pack. Absolutely no humans."

"No Daddio?"

"Absolutely not. Not with his heart," Melissa said.

"That was low, Melissa," Stiles replied.

"Got the point across," she said to Stiles, then turning to Derek, said, “Tie him down if you need to, just don't let him leave."

"Oh, Melissa, kinky!" Stiles exclaimed smiling.

"Stiles! I am practically your mother!" Melissa cried.

"She's getting nailed by Chris Argent, Derek. Bringing out sides we've never seen," he teased, and then shouted over his shoulder, "Always wear protection, Melissa! We can't know where Chris Argent's penis has been, now, can we? Wrap it before you tap it!"

"Stiles, I swear to god above…" Melissa uttered as she slammed the door.

Derek was laughing. "She and Chris are so fucking annoying. And loud!"

"Shut up Derek! She's my mom!" Stiles proclaimed is mock disgust.

"Chris is striking. You have to admit it," Derek teased.

"Shut up!" Stiles cried, now totally meaning it. Because Chris Argent _was_ striking and Derek didn't need to know about that little moment in Stiles' life.

And then Stiles started coughing. It was a dry hacking cough that came straight from his toes.

"Holy shit, Derek," he said when he finally caught his breath. Derek was rubbing his back. "I'm going to die. I have coronavirus and I'm going to die."

"Just half an hour ago you were insisting you were fine," Derek replied, scoffing at Stiles' misery.

"Things tend to change quickly around here," Stiles replied.

"Let's get you to bed," Derek replied, smirking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the coming one are based on my own experience. I got really sick at the beginning of all of this, but no one else was sick in our town. BUT I have friends that had just gotten back from Cambodia. BUT they have still never been ill. And I couldn't get tested, because I'm not as young as Stiles, but I also don't have any other risk factors and, as you know, tests are still in short supply. I think I had the flu, and based on what I know know about COVID, I'm pretty sure now that it wasn't COVID, but who knows? So I possibly had COVID-19, but maybe not? IDK. I'm better now, and spending my time writing about Teen Wolf, so there you go.
> 
> I have an [ active Sterek blog](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fyeahsterek72); updates are published there. Come join me!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made a soundtrack, because this is Teen Wolf on MTv, and there should be a new song every five minutes, or at least each chapter. It is a work in progress until the story is completed, but there will be a link to the song and a link to the whole song list
> 
> [Passenger - The One You Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a-kpXje13_U)
> 
> [Great Bi Awakening Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLoYDiCGS25o3pdlzCcwlwhjDbWDnhs2Bh)

Stiles' flu test came back negative, which meant he was under isolation until he wasn't running a fever and then 3 more days. He couldn't quite believe that he was being quarantined, like he had polio or something. The worst part of all of it was that he maybe had coronavirus? But maybe not? And maybe it was just a terrible cold. But maybe it was some horrible killer virus that could kill him and so he was stuck in Derek's loft, not really knowing one way or the other.

Derek made him chicken noodle soup. From scratch. He brought him cool washcloths and ibuprofen, because by noon, Stiles was convinced he'd been hit by a truck. Alien abduction could maybe be possible too, because they probed you and shit, and there wasn't a cell in his body that wasn't in pain. 

He slept the first day in fits and spurts because once the ibuprofen wore off he hurt everywhere and his throat was on fire.

He'd wake up coughing, once nearly choking on nothing really, until Derek propped him up on a foam wedge and pillows. 

He truly thought death would be preferable. And Derek didn't fight him on it because apparently he looked like absolute shit. But he took care of Stiles and fed him and even helped him walk to the bathroom on the second day, when Stiles felt so weak and mentally sluggish that he couldn't hardly sit up, much less walk the ten or so feet to his bathroom.

"You're nice Derek," Stiles had told him after he'd gotten back into bed.

Derek had quietly said thank you and smiled softly. Derek looked so soft and Stiles had the urge to cuddle into him, but actually doing so would mean moving, and he just didn't want to do that. Still, Derek put his hand on Stiles' forehead gently and circled his thumb. Stiles hummed contentedly and fell asleep.

Stiles slept for most of the day for the next two days. He said something about classes to Derek, but Derek told him it had been taken care of and to not worry about it and to go back to sleep and Stiles said, 'okay,' and did.

By day five Stiles was finally feeling just a little bit better. His fever was still borderline, but he was awake, so that was progress. When Derek knocked on his bedroom door to see if he needed anything, Stiles was reading the news on Buzzfeed.

"Good thing you got toilet paper, huh?" he said to Derek while reading about runs on grocery stores across the US.

Derek looked at Stiles' phone. "Your dad told me that there were two guys in jail this weekend because of a Wal-Mart toilet paper brawl," he said.

"Wal-Mart always delivers, don't they?" Stiles said, yawning.

Derek was still looking at Stiles' phone as if he were weighing something in his mind. "Stiles," he finally said, "I found your phone on the floor by your bed - and I - I read the text from Jackson. I didn't really mean to and I don't really know why I did because - well it's not something I'd usually do."

Stiles took a moment to remember said text convo (because he'd spent the last four days nearly at death's door) and when it all came back to him he realized that a lot had been revealed in that convo. A whole fucking lot. And the last thing Stiles wanted was for Derek to feel like he was being used or objectified. Derek had enough of that. Plus, the Great Bi Awakening. That had been in there, too.

"How much of it did you read?" he asked carefully.

"Just what was on the screen. There was a picture of underwear and - I didn't scroll," Derek said sincerely. I'd never - look Jackson is a tool. And he has this thing about announcing that he's getting laid."

"Yeah Scott told me," Stiles said, still trying to assess the situation. How much of the conversation had been on the screen. Had Derek been mentioned? Had he seen the parts about himself?

"It's just - you really value our friendship, don't you? I mean - okay, I'm not good at this, but - you might be one of the best friends I've ever had," Derek said.

That hadn't gone where he'd expected. Instead of being awkwardly told that he had no chance with Derek, he was now Derek's best friend ever. 

Okay.

"Derek you've been taking care of me for days. Of course I value our friendship. I don't know what I'd do without you," Stiles insisted.

"I know you've got Scott…"

"Scott is totally okay with me having multiple best friends. He has reassured me many times that our friendship doesn't bother him. He's the one that suggested I stay here."

"He was?"

"I didn't think you'd want me here; you like your privacy and all, but he was sure you'd be okay with it. I'm happy he was right."

Derek smiled and then looked down. He looked at the floor for a moment, something obviously on his mind, until he said tentatively, "There was something I wanted to tell the pack, but it looks like we won't be joining them anytime soon…"

Stiles stayed silent, waiting for Derek to go on.

"When you're better." Derek said with finality. "Not now."

"Okay. Any time, you know. I'm not going anywhere." Stiles said, yawning again.

"Get some sleep, Stiles." Derek said gently before he left the room.

\---

The next day Stiles managed to take a bath, soaking for a ridiculously long time in the jacuzzi tub, the jets massaging his sore muscles.

Afterwards, he ventured downstairs to find Derek reading. Derek looked up and smiled when he heard him on the stairs.

"I heard you taking a bath. You should rest," he said, watching Stiles descend the stairs.

"I will go insane if I don't get out of bed," he said, plopping down next to Derek on the couch and promptly laying down. “Although I do have to say, a few days ago those stairs weren’t so long. That wore me out.”

Derek grabbed the blanket off of the back of the couch and handed it to Stiles. Stiles covered himself up and then asked, “What are you reading? I have so much reading to do and I’m so far behind … ”

“I already told you not to worry about it. Your dad called your professors,” Derek said in reassurance.

“He did? He’s such an awesome Daddio.”

“And they are going to be emailing you about what you absolutely have to finish up on. Noah said they were very understanding.” 

Derek was quiet again, so Stiles repeated, “What are you reading?”

“Oh,” Derek said, and then answered, “ _Frankenstein_. Dr. Richardson had me read it a year ago. I'd never read it before and I really liked it."

“Dude, _Frankenstein_ is an amazing book!” Stiles exclaimed. “People always get it so wrong.”

“Yeah, the creature isn’t the monster … ” Derek started.

“The people are,” Stiles said, finishing his sentence. “Interesting book for Dr. Richardson to have you read.”

“Mmm,” was all that Derek said. He turned a page and then said, “What do you have to read?”

“Well, I’ve got to write this paper for Greek Mythology about Greek Myth in contemporary literature, so I thought I’d look at the Percy Jackson books and how they portrayed the Greek Gods,” Stiles explained.

“Interesting,” Derek commented, not looking up from his book. “Good books. But you’ve read them before. Multiple times. You could probably write that paper in your sleep.”

“But I want it to be good,” Stiles protested.

“Stiles, I doubt you’ve ever written a bad paper in your life,” Derek replied, turning to look at him.

Derek was right. He knew the Percy Jackson books backwards and forwards. He had that paper totally under control. He would write it - eventually. Right now, he was tired again.

“This is my favorite part,” Derek commented, and then read, “ _I do know that for the sympathy of one living being, I would make peace with all_.” He stopped for a moment and stared at the pages, as if he were remembering something, or he was suddenly realizing something. He looked over at Stiles, who was watching him read. His eyes were forlorn, and for just a second he looked at Stiles intensely. He cleared his throat and blinked his eyes a few times and then continued, “ _I have - I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other_.”

Stiles didn’t speak immediately. He had been accused of being clueless by Lydia (and Malia, and Jackson, and everyone, okay?), but this felt like Something. With a Capital S. He waited.

Derek was looking off into the distance. He finally said, “I did that for a long time, satisfied the rage. I didn’t know what else to do. It was all I felt. It was all I really knew.” He swallowed and looked down at his lap. “I just realized - just right now - what started changing all of that. Someone who actually cared came along,” he finished, looking at Stiles meaningfully.

Stiles sat up, because you shouldn’t have a conversation like this while laying down. He started to extend his hand, and then thought better of it, and then changed his mind again and laid his hand on Derek’s forearm. 

“Thank you for coming along, Stiles,” he said softly.

Stiles didn’t know what to say. “I - um - you’re welcome?” came out, but it wasn’t really enough. “No, okay, um - we’ve already established that I’m bad at this,” Stiles stammered. He then took a deep breath and said, “I’m sorry that there weren’t people there for you before me, Derek. There should have been. People are shitheads”

Derek laughed silently and then said, “Stiles, you’ve always been there. And you never wanted anything for it. You were just - there. I just took advantage of it and I don't think I appreciated it enough. I’ve never thanked you for it. So thank you.”

Stiles stared at Derek, his mouth slightly agape. What do you say to something like that? 'You’re welcome,' didn't seem like enough. 'Everyone should have fucking been helping you already because an insane bitch - who raped you, incidentally - murdered your entire family when you were just a kid,' wasn’t right either. So he started babbling.

“You scared the hell out of me the first time that I saw you,” he blurted.

Derek smiled humorlessly, “I know. I was pretty good at that, scaring people away.”

“You didn’t count on the most persistent person in California becoming obsessed with you,” Stiles said.

Derek's smile brightened and his cheeks grew pink. “You were obsessed with me?” he asked, like he didn’t already know.

“Seriously? This hot dude in a leather jacket threatens me during a murder investigation? Of course I was obsessed with you!”

Derek was smiling more widely now. A little wolfishly, even. “So your initial impression of me was that I was a hot dude in a leather jacket,” he said, deadpan.

“You forgot the murderer part,” Stiles supplied, because he could feel the hole that he was digging himself into getting deeper and deeper.

“But you thought I was hot,” he pushed.

“Well,” Stiles said, spastically gesticulating, “I mean, look at you, Derek! You’re - with the eyes and the perfect stubble and all of that,” he gestured toward Derek’s body. “Who would look at you and think anything different?”

“Mmm,” Derek said, smiling. “Good to know.”

“Why?” Stiles squeaked, trying to come across like he was only feeling mildly hysterical at the direction this conversation had taken.

Derek stood up and walked toward the kitchen. “It’s just good to know,” he said, in a tone that told Stiles that he wasn’t going to talk about this anymore. Also, that he was messing with him hard.

“You can’t just say something like that to someone and walk away!” Stiles protested.

“And yet, here I am, walking away,” Derek blithely replied.

“That’s just -” Stiles babbled, “I just don’t even -”

“Do you want to know what I thought about you the first time that I saw you?” Derek asked, putting his book on the island and turning toward Stiles.

“Yes?” Stiles squeaked, because he really wasn’t sure that he did.

“I wondered who the hell this skinny, practically bald kid was who smelled like anxiety and Axe and medicine and why the hell he was on my land. With his previously unknown to me teenage werewolf friend. Also, I had the feeling that you weren't going to be easy to get rid of. And so I didn’t trust you and I hated you.”

“So you noticed me before you noticed the new werewolf?,” Stiles asked, slightly incredulous.

Derek stopped to visibly think. After a moment, a smile formed and he said, "Yeah, yeah I did, Stiles."

"But you hated me," Stiles stated, remembering the day.

“I did. That’s changed, though.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re my best friend, Stiles. It’s probably a good thing that I didn’t rip your throat out like I intended to,” Derek quipped.

“Yes, I’d like to thank you for that." Stiles commented, then challenged, "Also, you would have drowned, so - ” 

"Thank you Stiles," Derek said, heartfelt meaning in his voice. "Thank you, for everything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an [ active Sterek blog](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fyeahsterek72); updates are published there. Come join me!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst warning in this chapter regarding bad season 3 stuff that happened to Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made a soundtrack, because this is Teen Wolf on MTv, and there should be a new song every five minutes, or at least each chapter. It is a work in progress until the story is completed, but there will be a link to the song and a link to the whole song list
> 
> [Demons - Imagine Dragons (Boyce Avenue feat. Jennel Garcia acoustic cover)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9DLtzc9KLiw)
> 
> [Great Bi Awakening Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLoYDiCGS25o3pdlzCcwlwhjDbWDnhs2Bh)

That night, Stiles had a recurring nightmare. The Nogitsune had taken control of him, and no matter how hard he fought and no matter how much he tried to scream no sound came out. He was trapped. Through his eyes he saw Allison at Eichen House and he felt the rage and chaos of the Nogitsune and he felt the Nogitsune tell the Oni to kill them all, every single one of them. And because he'd been here before, hundreds of times now, he tried to scream and scream for her to shoot him, to run, to please just get out of there, to just do _something_ so that the next thing wouldn't happen.

The next thing always happened, though, and he was more grief stricken by it than anything that had ever happened to him. He sobbed and his fingers ripped at nothing and no matter what he did it never changed. She was always dead, blood coloring the pavement, and the Nogitsune was delighted. Stiles fought and fought and sobbed and tried so hard to cry out to Scott, to help Allie. He couldn't.

He never could.

He felt himself being wrapped up and he was warm. He heard someone calling his name. The Nogitsune was angry because it knew that Stiles would break free this time.

He was being shaken and he felt hands on his face and the world felt fuzzy and his limbs felt numb and then he was waking.

"Stiles, it's alright," he heard Derek reassuring. He realized that he was sobbing in real life, too. He felt prickly, tingly, his breath becoming more irregular.

Derek was holding him. He was sitting up and Derek was holding him.

"Listen to me, Stiles. Open your eyes and look at me."

Everything was blurry and dim at first and then Stiles was looking in Derek's eyes. He couldn't stop crying, letting out great hiccups of tears and sorrow and shame.

"Hey there," Derek said, smiling softly and looking relieved. "Can you try to breathe with me?"

Stiles just stared wide eyed at Derek. He killed Allison. It had felt powerful and he’d actually _liked_ that power. How could he have felt that way? He would never be able to forgive himself. How could he? How could Scott? And Chris? How could anyone?

"Stiles," Derek said a bit more firmly, taking firm hold of Stiles' face with both hands, "we're going to breathe together, okay?"

This time Stiles shook his head that he understood.

Derek took slow, deep breaths and Stiles tried to with him but the sorrow and self-hatred and grief were overwhelming.

"That's good, Stiles," Derek said. "Just keep breathing and keep looking at me. Does me talking help?"

Stiles nodded again, crying a little less. He just hated himself. How was he supposed to live with that deep hatred every day for the rest of his life?

"I killed her," he rasped out between hiccup breaths. "Allison. I - I couldn't stop it. It was too strong and - I just - and he made me _like_ it. He made me _want_ it. How can I - I can’t - "

He started crying again and Derek let go of his face, put his arms around Stiles, put one on the back of his head, pulled him into a close embrace, and just held Stiles, rocking while he cried, making little shushing noises and stroking the back of his head. He didn't tell Stiles that he was wrong, that it wasn't him that killed Allison, but the demon, that he’d been manipulated and couldn’t keep blaming himself - he didn't say any of the things that people usually said when this happened. He just held him and rocked him and shushed him and gently ran his fingers over Stiles' hair.

Stiles cried for a long time. He cried until he was exhausted. He felt worn and drained and fileted open. Raw. But it also felt good to not have to stop, to just cry for as long as he wanted to. He never, ever did that.

He also cried until there was so much snot on Derek's shirt that he started to feel self conscious about it. And by the time he realized that he was self conscious about his snot production he also realized that he was breathing normally and he felt calmer. He didn’t feel much better about Allison, but he felt calmer.

He realized that he had fistfuls of Derek's shirt where he was holding onto him. 

He just kept holding on. Kept breathing, trying to get the crying under control - because the tears just _wouldn’t_ stop - and holding on. And Derek just sat there and let him, holding him.

Stiles didn't know how long they sat there like that, him desperately gripping Derek's shirt and Derek holding him. Eventually everything became still and quiet and Stiles felt at peace. He didn't even know the last time he could honestly say that he had felt at peace, but he did in that moment.

He finally lifted his head. His voice sounded loud in the quiet room. "Sorry about your shirt - the, um, snot," he rasped.

Derek still hadn't let him go and didn't seem inclined to do so anytime soon. He did, however, pull back a bit and looked Stiles in the eyes. "Just a shirt. I have a hundred more like it," he said gently. He was looking Stiles over, searching his face, making sure he was alright.

"So, um, that was a nightmare," he supplied and Derek laughed humorlessly.

"Yeah, figured that out. You were screaming and thrashing. And then when you started to wake up you started to panic." He had opened his embrace and Stiles slumped down into himself. Derek held gently onto Stiles upper arms. 

"Thanks," Stiles said. At this point in the proceedings of being awoken from a nightmare he typically became embarrassed, and tonight wasn't any different. Also, he’d just ugly cried all over Derek, so there was that. "So, sorry … " he started unsure of what to say next.

"Hey," Derek said, leaning down to recapture Stiles' gaze. "You've got nothing to be sorry for." His expression was at once grave and earnest.

Stiles shook his head that he understood.

"I'm going to get you some water," Derek said, and went to stand, but he didn't fully rise until he ran his eyes over Stiles' face one last time.

He came back from the bathroom with a glass of water and a wet washcloth. He held the washcloth out and said, "Can I … " indicating he wanted to wipe off Stiles' face. "There’s snot literally all over your face."

Stiles huffed out a small laugh and said, "Your shirt is worse," before nodding 'yes.'

He was shaky and tired and so raw. He must have shivered because Derek stopped what he was doing and wrapped a blanket around Stiles' shoulders. Derek started wiping Stiles' face off gently, starting with his cheeks, refolding and wiping his nose, refolding again and wiping off his forehead and chin, taking extra time to fully clean his beard.

Stiles thought for a moment of his mom, about how when he was little and scraped his knee or cried she'd wash his face off with a washcloth. "Did your mom used to do this for you?" he asked Derek. He still sounded so fragile.

Derek looked up quickly into Stiles eyes with that haunted look he got when he was remembering his family.

"It's just," Stiles continued quickly, "I was remembering my mom, and she would do this after I cried."

Derek smiled. It was small and still and fond. "Yeah, she did,” he said quietly. “She was gentle - but strong. She didn't like to see us hurting. She'd lift me up onto the counter and tell me everything would be alright and then she'd wash my face." Derek stopped for a moment, lost in a memory before looking at Stiles again.

Everything got quiet. Derek had finished washing Stiles' face but didn't move.

"You should change your shirt," Stiles finally said.

Derek nodded and stood up and walked into Stiles closet. He threw the washcloth in the hamper and then in one swift motion, reached over his head, his back muscles flexing and moving, he pulled the shirt off and over his head and threw it in the hamper. It all happened in silhouette in the dark of Stiles' closet, but it wasn't any less mesmerizing to watch Derek take his shirt off. Stiles had missed watching Derek take his shirt off.

Derek rooted around in Stiles' closet and pulled out a t-shirt.

"Mind if I borrow this?" he asked, and then stopped short. Stiles realized that he must have been staring, so he looked down hurriedly and said, "Sure, whatever you want. Might be too tight, though." 

Derek chuckled quietly. "You're a little larger than you were back then and you wear baggy shirts," he said.

Stiles smiled to himself. "K, Miguel," he said looking at his lap.

"You were such a little shit," Derek said fondly as he sat back down on the bed in front of Stiles.

Stiles chuckled. He stayed quiet though, because this was the part where Derek went back to his bed and Stiles desperately didn't want to be alone. 

Derek just sat there, though, and now Stiles was starting to feel the urge to babble come on, because that was his fallback when he didn’t know what to do. Before he got his mouth open, however, Derek sighed, looked down at his lap and said, "I have nightmares, too." He kept looking at his hands; he was wringing them when he continued, "I've always wished that I wasn't alone, you know, after I had one."

"Yes!" Stiles blurted, trying and most likely failing to hide how terribly he didn't want to be alone. "I mean,” he continued, trying to compose himself, “yes, I would like for you to stay if that was what you were offering. Um, it's a big bed - but you know that because you bought it - and I probably won't sleep now so I won't kick you or anything."

"Okay," Derek smiled tenderly as he stood up and walked to the other side of the bed. Stiles watched as Derek got into the other side of the bed and rolled onto his side facing Stiles.

Stiles laid down, pulled the covers up until they were under his chin and turned toward Derek.

Derek hadn’t closed his eyes. There was maybe a foot of space between them, and in the quiet of the night everything felt still and gentle. “Thank you,” Stiles whispered, and then rushed out, “I mean, for everything. For waking me up and for staying with me.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Derek whispered back. There was something about sharing a bed with someone, about darkness and moonlight, and the still calm of the night that led to whispering.

“Not really,” Stiles answered.

They kept looking at each other, and it didn’t really feel awkward or weird or anything that Stiles would have thought it would feel like - being in bed with Derek Hale. It felt calm. A bit like when he was a kid and Scott would stay over. Familiar and safe.

Stiles so rarely felt calm. He liked it, whatever this was that was happening here. He was almost happy that his soul crushing nightmare had happened. If soul crushing nightmares led to Derek Hale looking back at him like it was just, well, _right_ , then bring on the soul crushing nightmares.

“Can you tell me about something? Or can we talk about something?” Stiles whispered. 

“What do you want to talk about?” Derek asked.

“I don’t know,” Stiles answered.

“First time for everything,” Derek quipped, and Stiles smiled.

“Tell me about Scott and Malia’s loft,” Stiles said back, mostly because that was the first thing that popped into his head.

Derek’s smile widened and he started whispering to Stiles about the floor plan of the loft, about the architectural elements that he was including in the loft, about the entryway that would be tiled in tiny octagonal tiles that were original to the building. About the oak window sills in what would be Scott and Malia’s bedroom, and about how that area had held executive offices in the past, so there were elements there that you didn’t see in other parts of the building: transom windows over the doors, several decorative, 1940s light fixtures that Malia wasn’t crazy about, but that Erica and Boyd were thrilled to be putting in their living room, corrugated tin that would be repurposed and put into their kitchen as a backsplash, and oak moldings on the floors and ceiling. Stiles started to stifle yawns as Derek told Stiles about one of the crew members who had a love of glass blowing, and how he was going to take Derek to the studio that he worked out of and show him how he was blowing shades for the light fixtures for Scott and Malia’s bathrooms and how they’d had to source a specific glass to match the panes that already existed in the factory windows. 

Stiles drifted off as Derek started talking about cabinetry and countertops. He typically fought sleep after one of his nightmares, but he just didn’t feel like he needed to do that with Derek there with him.

Derek made him feel safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the amazing response! You all are so awesome. To be honest, I'm writing this purely for selfish reasons and to get through this pandemic and didn't expect much of a response at all but you all are amazing. Virtual cupcakes and brownies for all of you!!
> 
> I have an [ active Sterek blog](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fyeahsterek72); updates are published there. Come join me!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made a soundtrack, because this is Teen Wolf on MTv, and there should be a new song every five minutes, or at least each chapter. It is a work in progress until the story is completed, but there will be a link to the song and a link to the whole song list
> 
> [Great Bi Awakening Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLoYDiCGS25o3pdlzCcwlwhjDbWDnhs2Bh)

At peace and feeling safe, for the first time in, well, years, Stiles slept through the alarm he'd set on his phone. He slept through a Zoom meeting he was supposed to be having with his Latin 202 class, and then through the Zoom meeting he was supposed to have with his advisor. 

When he finally woke up, he was alone in his bed, but it also was 11:47 a.m. He felt so well rested and so muzzy and sleep drunk that he considered just going back to sleep, because sleep is awesome, but he then remembered the two Zoom meetings that he had totally missed and grabbed his phone to send slightly (though much less than usual) panicked emails groveling and begging for forgiveness and also pointing out that he maybe had coronavirus.

While waiting for answers to his emails, he decided it wouldn't be too terrible if he closed his eyes while he waited, and the next time he opened his eyes it was 1:35 pm.

By the time he washed, brushed his teeth, stared out the window, messed around with his hair, stared in the mirror at the beard thing on his face that he'd never intended on having (he’d been busy with a paper, so he didn’t shave, and then he was studying for a test, so he thought he could wait a few more days, and then he just forgot about it except for when he looked in the mirror - because it wasn’t itchy anymore - and it was so strange that he sort of did a mental disconnect from the facial hair that was now more than that on his face, and then Lydia broke up with him and then he was at Derek’s and now he was Stiles-with-a-beard) - anyhow, it was now a _ thing _ that needed to be trimmed, and a mighty thick, majestic one at that - and by the time he yawned more, had finally gotten dressed (tee, Berkeley hoodie, sweats, socks) and wandered downstairs, it was 2:14.

Jackson was with Derek at the kitchen island drinking hot tea.

"Afternoon, sleeping beauty," Jackson said sarcastically as Stiles yawned his way down the steps.

"I slept through two Zoom meetings and then I fell asleep again," Stiles exclaimed to Derek and Jackson. "I never sleep this late."

"I thought you might need it," Derek said

Jackson smirked. "Enjoying your present?" he asked conversationally while sipping his tea.

"Haven't had much use for it, seeing as how I was dying for a week," Stiles snarked.

"Yeah. While we were waiting for you to wake up I thought I'd brew some of the tea that I got for Derek. Teach him how to do it the proper English way." Jackson said.

"It does make a difference," Derek commented, taking a sip.

"Wait, he got you tea?" Stiles exclaimed, glaring at Jackson. Jackson looked absolutely delighted.

"Yeah, from England, and a Bodum tea cup," Derek said, looking with confusion between Stiles and Jackson. "Why? What did he get you?" he asked.

"Just a book," Jackson said, looking bored, and Derek looked interested, and Stiles was questioning the logic in being friends with Jackson Whittemore.

"Nothing you'd be interested in. Ridiculously specialized and technical," Stiles blurted.

Jackson snorted on his tea. "Specialized. You kill me, Stilinski. And while I've got you, you're needed in the lobby."

"But quarantine," Stiles protested.

"It's over. It's been over 72 hours since you've had a fever," Derek said.

"Why the lobby?" Stiles asked.

"You'll find out," Jackson said, while Derek was making 'I have no idea' faces at Stiles. "Come on Stilinski. Live on the edge. Besides, Malia and Scott are down there, so what's the worst that could happen?"

Something didn't feel right about this, but Derek didn't look concerned. He was actually giving Stiles the 'well, why aren't you going' look. "If I die, I will haunt you," he said to Jackson.

Jackson actually looked hurt. But it was the 'I'm not really hurt, I'm just being coy' sort of look that Jackson excelled at. "Come on, Stilinski," he said, and got up, indicating that Stiles should come with him and not fight it.

When they were in the elevator, Stiles said, "Come on, Jackson, what's going on?" but Jackson just stared forward like he didn't hear Stiles.

When they got out of the elevator, Jackson had Stiles follow him into the living area, where he grabbed a chair from around the table, which he then put it in front of a window looking out. There was another chair on the other side, outside on the new sidewalk.

"Sit," he said, and Stiles looked between the chair and Jackson and then back at the chair, and then out the window. Jackson was typing into his phone.

"What is going on?" Stiles asked warily.

"Chair’s not gonna bite you," Jackson said, not looking up from his text.

Stiles thought he heard something happening in the lobby, like doors opening and closing and muffled voices that he couldn't quite make out.

Stiles' phone started to ring. He fished it out of his pocket, still looking warily at Jackson and then looked at the screen. Which said 'Lydia.'

Looked out the window and saw Lydia taking a seat in the other chair.

Stiles glared at Jackson. "Traitor," he said.

"You were being a little chicken shit. She came home for the pandemic. Answer your phone, sit the fuck down, and deal with your shit. You'll thank me for it,” Jackson said, brooking no arguments.

"Whatever," Stiles said petulantly, before sitting down and hitting 'Answer' on his phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an [ active Sterek blog](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fyeahsterek72); updates are published there. Come join me!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made a soundtrack, because this is Teen Wolf on MTv, and there should be a new song every five minutes, or at least each chapter. It is a work in progress until the story is completed, but there will be a link to the song and a link to the whole song list
> 
> [Taylor Swift - You Are In Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EwMZ_BYoCpI)
> 
> [Great Bi Awakening Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLoYDiCGS25o3pdlzCcwlwhjDbWDnhs2Bh)

He was looking down at the floor when he heard Lydia say, "Hey."

Looked up and there she was. Hair pulled back in a messy bun, cheeks bright pink from the wind. No make-up at all. Absolutely beautiful, but this was Lydia, so does that really need to be said?

"You're wearing jeans," he said, because he didn't even know Lydia owned jeans.

She laughed. "Yeah, well, the state's shutting down and I'm going into isolation with my mom at grandma's house. Thought I'd try them out."

"The state's shutting down?" Stiles exclaimed, because that was the first he'd heard of that.

"How long have you been in bed?" Lydia asked.

"Hell, I don't know, like a month?" Stiles answered.

"You've been sick for 6 days," Jackson scoffed, and when Stiles whipped around to glare at him he said, "I know, I'm going. I just wanted to make sure you wouldn't run."

"Why the fuck would I run, Jackson? She's my best friend!" At that pronouncement, Stiles stopped short and realized that he had, actually, been avoiding talking to Lydia. Which was ridiculous. She was Lydia, the greatest human-banshee-genius in existence. And she was his friend. He turned back to Lydia and smiled sheepishly and said, "Hey, Lyds."

"Hey, Misha," she said back, smiling back sheepishly, too.

And didn't that send a knife right through his heart, because once Lydia learned Stiles real name she started calling him Misha, and he had wondered why he'd ever hated his name in the first place.

"Why are you here? I mean, why aren't you in Cambridge?" he asked.

"There's a lot of death on the east coast right now. It started getting too - loud. I couldn't - I don't know how to cope with death on this scale. So I called mom and she told me to come home and we'd get out of town, away from everyone until it gets quieter,” she answered, looking agitated and uncomfortable as she did.

"Oh," Stiles said. "That really sucks, Lyds."

"Well, I'm excited to spend time with mom, you know; I haven’t really seen her for a while, and grandma's house is made of mountain ash so it keeps the voices out. And I have quite a bit of mathematical theory to work on so it will all be fine." Stiles smiled at Lydia’s plan to work on mathematical theory. Because of course that’s what she had planned to get through being locked away in a mountain ash house with her mom.

“That’s quite a look you’ve got going there,” Lydia smirked, pinching her chin.

“Yeah, it sort of got away from me and took on a life of it’s own. I’m not really sure about it,” Stiles said. “Might shave it off.”

“I don’t know,” said Lydia, tilting her head, “Clean it up a bit and then see. It sort of suits you. Makes you look more rugged.”

They sat and looked at each other for a moment and then Lydia said, "So how's Derek?" and Stiles could tell there was a hell of a lot more than 'how's Derek' behind her question.

"Good. Why? What did Jackson tell you?" Stiles asked, trying to sound casual and failing, because a - bi-mentor, matchmaker Jackson had arranged this with Lydia and also b - Derek had slept with him last night. After holding him for who knows how long while he sobbed. It had been an intimate moment. With Derek. Who they were apparently talking about.

"That he bought you _The Joy of Gay Sex_ and anal lube,” Lydia said matter-of-factly.

"And trainer plugs," Stiles furnished, after coughing on his own spit at Lydia’s nonchalance. "Don't forget the most troubling item."

"Oh, he was just messing around with you,” teased Lydia, as if none of this actually bothered her.

"I know that, but a trainer set? Who buys someone a trainer set? I told him that I didn't need it," said Stiles, wiggling his eyebrows, implying to Lydia that she’d already seen to that.

"Bet that tipped his little world's axis," Lydia smirked.

Stiles laughed. "I missed you, Lyds,"

"I missed you, too. I missed the you before everything got complicated," Lydia said, sounding sad.

"Yeah," Stiles agreed.

Lydia looked down at her lap and took a deep breath, steeling herself for something. She finally said, "I want to tell you something and I want you to listen to me. I know that we just ended things and I know it hasn't been that long,"

"But it really has," Stiles supplied, remembering his talk with Jackson.

"Well, yes, I suppose. But the idea of it is new," Lydia capitulated.

Stiles nodded and waited.

"This isn't easy for me to say - so just please listen to me, okay?" she said, looking more at her lap than at Stiles.

Stiles waited. She finally looked at Stiles and said, "I don't want you to wait and mourn over our relationship. Unless you need to. But if you have a chance to be happy with him, and Jackson at least thinks you do - and I think he might be right - then you need to do it. I don't want to stand in the way of whatever you and Derek could have. I love you too much for that.” Her expression was so open and honest. And Lydia wasn’t one to say what she thought you wanted to hear, she was one to say what needed to be said. 

"I don't know what to say to that, Lyds. This whole situation, it's - ," Stiles sighed and composed his thoughts. "I didn't come here with the idea that something would happen between Derek and me, you gotta know that. I got here two days after I called you."

"Yeah, I know. Malia explained why you're at Derek's to me. Thought she'd run interference for you," Lydia smiled to herself and then said, "If something is there, if something is happening, don't wait because of me. Life's too short and love's too rare."

"I don't want to fuck anything up, with you or with him," Stiles said.

"I know how you feel about me, I really do, Stiles. And with Derek, I don't think you’ll screw things up. You care about him too much. Also, Derek Hale has been into you for years."

"No," Stiles scoffed.

"Oh yes, he has. But he's a good person so he wasn't going to start something with a minor - especially with his past - and your dad - and then he went away to take care of himself, which he needed to do. And you started dating. He's a total Hufflepuff, Stiles, he'd never even imagine getting in the way of a relationship."

"Lydia, you're using Harry Potter references!" Stiles exclaimed, delighted because Lydia never did that.

"I may have started reading the books again. They're good! But don't change the subject. The time is finally right, Stiles, and I want you to feel free to see what happens."

Stiles still didn't know what to say. He didn't even know how to start babbling. Leave it to Lydia.

"Whatever you do, it'll have to be creative. Shelter in place has been instituted, most public places have closed - Malia might have some ideas."

"Wait - Malia is in on this, too? Oh, by the way, she's no longer Topanga. It's Coyote Shark now."

"Stiles, everyone is in on this. It’s been brewing for far too long for us to not be in on it,” Lydia stated matter-of-factly, and then said, “So if Malia is no longer Topanga, what does that make Scott?"

"What do you mean, everyone? Is dad in on this? Is there anything else I should know?” Stiles asked, both wary and slightly annoyed.

“Don’t worry about it, Stiles. You know it’s because we love you and Derek. So tell me Scott’s new name so that I’m in the loop.” Lydia said with finality, ending any further discussion about Derek.

Stiles scowled at Lydia for a moment before giving up. Because if Lydia was done with something, it was done and there was nothing you could do to get her to talk. She’d be an amazing spy. He finally said, “I don't know what we should call Scott, but it would be great if it had something to do with him hearing his mom and Chris having pornographic sex."

"This I want to hear."

So Stiles told her about Scott's story, about his absolute mortification, and about how apparently Derek has heard them at some point, too.

"Well, good for Melissa. Chris Argent is sexy as hell."

"Yep," Stiles agreed, because Lydia actually knew about Stiles' daddy kink moment. "And apparently amazing in bed, too."

“Those eyes - “ Lydia said, dreamily.

“Yep,” said Stiles, popping the ‘p.’

Lydia sighed and stood up. “I’ve got to get back home. We’re leaving for grandma’s soon. Cell reception is better out there now, so I want updates, Stiles. Now go get your man.”

Stiles scoffed. “You know this isn’t happening immediately, right? Look who you’re talking to, Lyds. It’s not like I’m Mister Smooth.”

Lydia looked hard at Stiles. “Derek doesn’t need smooth Stiles, he needs real. And that’s what you’ve always given him. You’ve got this,” she said in reassurance.

“You give amazing advice, Lyds,” Stiles said, both meaning it and upset by it because now Lydia would expect results.

Lydia pointed at him. “Believe in yourself, Stiles. Now go get him.”

“I love you, Lyds,” Stiles said. It was bittersweet to say it, but it would always be true.

“I love you too, Misha,” said Lydia, smiling sadly.

The call ended. Lydia was still standing there, looking at Stiles impatiently. She yelled, “Now, Stiles! Chop chop!” while clicking her finger on her watch face. She'd once told Stiles that she wore a watch strictly for the dramatic effect of it.

Stiles smiled at the memory.

“Okay, okay!” he yelled back. 

Apparently, he had a man to get. 

He was fucking terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an [ active Sterek blog](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fyeahsterek72); updates are published there. Come join me!


	11. Chapter 11

Derek wasn't there when he got back to the loft and Stiles was more than cool with that. Now that Lydia had instructed Stiles to tell Derek about his feelings he knew that Jackson and Lydia and Scott AND Malia weren't going to let him back out in any way, shape, or form. 

A million things could go wrong. First off, everyone could be wrong about Derek and if he didn't reciprocate Stiles' feelings then Stiles would now be living with someone who had turned him down. Derek would feel bad, Stiles would feel awkward. He wanted to avoid awkward. Who wouldn't? Also, what if Derek wanted him out? He didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay with Derek.

He really cared about Derek. He didn't want something to go wrong with that. 

Also, asking someone out is fucking scary. It shouldn't be, he was an experienced adult and all that, but it was. Because a million things could go wrong.

Stiles was great at catastrophizing. It was a talent, really.

He started pacing around the loft. Normally he'd go for a run to help himself think, but Lydia said something about the state shutting down. He didn't even know if he was allowed outside. Also, he wasn’t sure if he was up for a run just yet. He was still tired - and was realizing that running was actually too much this soon after maybe-coronavirus. 

He needed to talk to someone impartial. Someone who wasn't prone to romanticism. Someone with a calm head.

His dad. He needed his dad.

His dad answered the phone after just one ring. But it was Claire's voice that came from the other end. "Stiles! I'm so happy to hear from you! Derek was keeping Noah updated but it wasn't the same as talking to you," she said as a 'hello.'

"What's this? Answering dad's cell phone now?" Stiles teased, and then realized, "Wait, are you isolating with him?"

"He asked if I wanted to," said Claire, sounding contrite. "Called it a 'trial run.' Wouldn't say for what, and I didn't push him. He wanted to ask you but you were too sick and we had to make the decision relatively quickly. And since I'm teaching digitally now and I thought it would be nice if he had someone waiting for him at home. He’s had to work some pretty long days, it's been stressful for him. He's mowing the lawn, put me on phone duty. Let me get him for you."

"Hey," said Stiles conspiratorially, "while you're doing that, got any good dirty jokes for me?"

"You better not tell your dad," Claire warned.

"My lips are sealed," Stiles swore.

“Okay, but potty humor for you,” she said.

“I am down with potty humor,” Stiles replied.

"Okay, An elderly, married couple are in church one Sunday, when the woman turns to her husband and whispers, ‘I’ve just let out a really long, silent fart. What should I do?’ The husband turns to her and says, ‘Replace the battery in your hearing aid.’”

Stiles sniggered and said, "This is the mind that is shaping tomorrow’s leaders."

Claire chuckled and called to his dad, telling him that Stiles was on the line.

He heard the lawn mower cut out and heard his dad tease, "You better not be encouraging him, Claire."

"Your son needs no encouragement," Claire answered.

He liked Claire. She was kind and patient enough to be a 2nd grade teacher and funny, too. She was smart enough to have conversations about pretty much anything with him. He had a good repore with her, and she liked to try to mother him. She was good for his dad, who had a new spring in his step and hadn't touched a bottle in over a year. They were cute together. He’d caught his dad looking at her one time and he knew that his dad loved her. Has done the same with her. And apparently, they were far enough into things that they were now living together. Good for his dad. Good for Claire.

"Hey, kid. Good to hear from you. How ya feelin'?" his dad asked when he got the phone.

"Better. Still pretty tired, though, even though I slept forever last night."

"Well, these things take time. Melissa said probably two weeks minimum before you feel 100%."

"So, Claire's all moved in, then?" Stiles teased lightly.

"Yeah," his dad sheepishly answered. "I was going to ask you if it was okay but you got sick and things shut down pretty quickly. You're okay with it?"

"Yeah, dad! You know that I think she's awesome and you both would be alone if you didn't. It's totally cool."

Stiles could hear the smile in his dad's reply. "Good. I was worried you'd have an issue with it. You doing okay otherwise? Have everything you need?"

"Derek keeps telling everyone that we're good, so I'm pretty sure that we are. He’d be the one to ask, though, since I’ve been out of it for the last few days.” Changing his tone, Stiles asked, "So I have a question. Can I go for a walk? I don't know how this shelter in place thing works and I’m starting to feel antsy and I need to think."

"Out of quarantine?" his dad asked.

"Yeah, Derek says today. But he's not here now so I just called you cuz’ I knew you'd know."

"Well, Stiles, the governor is recommending everyone stay at home as much as possible. Shelter in place, except for food, medical care a d emergencies. I suppose you could go to the Preserve, but I don't like the idea of you going to the Preserve on your own. It's been quiet, but you know how this town works."

"Yeah," Stiles said, trying to keep the disappointment and desperation to get outside out of his voice. “I guess I could call Scott or something, but he’s not going to be a lot of help with this.” Because Scott was in on it too. And probably expected Derek and him to announce their engagement by the end of the week or something. 

"Anything I can help with?" his dad asked.

"Actually, yeah, I think you could," Stiles answered, contemplating what to say. He settled with, "I saw Lydia today. Jackson set it up."

Stiles went on to tell his dad about the interaction and about how she'd given him permission to date Derek. And how he wanted to date Derek (forever and ever and with everything - that he didn’t say), but it felt much more complicated than him just going through with asking him out.

"And now I feel like I have this thing hanging over my head. Like everyone expects me to ask him out or jump him or something and I don't want to mess this up. Scott and Jackson and Lydia are definitely in on this and they're not going to leave me alone until Derek, I don't know, gets me knocked up or something," he finished, gesticulating to the room.

“Wait, can that happen?” his dad asked, clearly alarmed.

Stiles snorted, “No dad,” he replied. “When a mommy and daddy, but not a daddy and a daddy, love each other very much - “ Stiles started.

“Quit being a smart ass. I know how it works, I made you," said Noah, continuing, "I’ve just learned not to rule anything out, no matter how bizarre it sounds. So it can’t, right?”

“Nope, just in some very specific fanfiction. Poor, poor Edward Cullen,” Stiles lamented.

Stiles heard his dad make a sound of relief and then he went quiet for a moment. His dad had a tendency to do that when he was deciding what to say. He could see him, pacing just like Stiles was, the wheels turning in his head.

"You know, Stiles,” he said with a sigh, “when I first suspected that you had feelings for Derek I wasn't too thrilled about it. This was years ago, before you'd told me about werewolves and I thought Derek was some sort of delinquent. And he looked like he was 35 and you were in high school. Let’s not even go there. All I knew was this adult was spending quite a bit of time around my son, who had this new attraction to trouble. I was so sure you were on drugs. It was the only thing that made sense.” 

Noah stopped a moment to refocus and continued, “The point is, a lot has happened since then. I’ve grown to respect Derek. He’s overcome some very difficult things and on top of that, he's a damn good person. Sometimes I can’t believe that I was so wrong about him."

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed.

"Both of you have grown through the years. You respect him now. He's not just someone you've got a thing for, he's someone you care about. And if the last week didn't tell you that Derek cares for you, I don't know what to tell you. Sounds like the foundation for a pretty good relationship to me." 

He paused for a moment and then asked, "Are you ready for something like this? No matter what Lydia approves of, you did just break up."

“It had been happening for a long time, the breakup," Stiles answered. "When I saw her and we talked, it was weird at first, but then I think we both realized that we were friends above anything else. And that we hadn’t been together for months. And how much easier those months had been without this misguided relationship hanging over our heads.”

“You had your closure,” his dad stated.

"Yeah, I guess we did," Stiles agreed. "So, yeah, I think I am ready for whatever could happen. But what if I fuck everything up?" 

Noah paused for a moment and said, contemplatively, "There's no guarantees to any of this, Stiles. Life is just taking lots of chances and hoping that they work out. I didn’t have any guarantee with Claire; all I knew was that she was nice and kind and much too hot for an old coot like me.”

Stiles heard Claire say, “If you're an old coot, then I'm ancient!"

“I don't know, old girl, you get my engine goin',” Noah said.

“Enough!" Stiles shouted. "No one wants to hear that, dad!”

“Claire does,” Noah stated, chuckling, and then said, “I guess the question you've got to ask yourself is, how will you feel if you don't pursue this? If nothing more comes of your relationship with him, will you be happy with that?”

“Well, yeah. He’s awesome.”

“Okay, so now that you've got the chance, will you ever be happy with yourself if you don't?"

No, he probably wouldn’t. And he’d probably obsess about it for the rest of his life. But this was scary, damn it! 

"I'm going to make a total fool of myself," he stated.

His dad snorted. "Stiles, you've been making a fool of yourself in front of Derek Hale - and about Derek Hale - since the first day you met him. If that were an issue, he'd be long gone."

"Gee thanks, dad, for that vote of confidence." Stiles sassed.

"You know it's true,” Noah said, his voice warm. “Look Stiles, for what it's worth, I would be happy to see you with him. I think the two of you would be good for each other. And I don’t care about sexualities or if you ever have kids or anything like that as long as you’re with someone who loves you and treats you well."

“Yeah, I know. Thanks for saying it, though.” 

“You’re welcome, kid. I’m happy to hear that you’re feeling better." Noah paused for a moment and then suggested, "Why don’t you go up to the roof? Derek’s been working up there and Scott tells me there’s a nice patio area. Get a bit of sunshine.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Stiles said, continuing, “Thanks, dad. Love you.”

“Love you too, kid. Take care of yourself. Don’t push yourself too hard. Your professors said to take all of the time that you need.”

“Thanks dad. You’re the best.”

Stiles heard Claire say, “Bye, Stiles,” in the background.

“Tell Claire bye. Love you dad.”

His dad finished by saying, "Good luck, Stiles. It will all be fine," before hanging up.

He was going to do this. When Derek got back from wherever he was, he was going to say something or do something, just Something, and then he would know. Once and for all, he would know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to get ABO dynamics in there somehow (because it's so firmly part of this fandom), even though it's sort of a squick of mine, and since there isn't Teen Wolf fanfiction in the Teen Wolf universe, Jacob gets to knock up Edward.
> 
> I have an [ active Sterek blog](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fyeahsterek72); updates are published there. Come join me!


	12. Chapter 12

Last summer the roof had been accessed via a scary ladder on the second floor of Derek’s loft. It had always been a spot the pack used - for watches, defense, just to get away from everyone else, to act out the iconic roof scene from The Room (Isaac and he would take turns playing Mark and Johnny and it was by far their best bit).

When Derek came back he decided that he wanted a garden. And a greenhouse. And that the pack should have an outdoors space that was safe and comfortable and beautiful. And so he got to work.

Now the original spiral staircase, which had been repaired and refurbished, led to a roof entrance with a glass door. There was a large patio area with comfortable lounge chairs, tables, and an outdoor kitchen just beyond the door. The patio area was covered with a pergola that was strung with fairy lights and fancy hanging lanterns; there were candles and pillows and even rugs. It was swank is what it was.

The greenhouse wasn’t some cheap vinyl number, either. Derek and Malia had sourced a fancy iron and glass building from an estate in Los Angeles and had it shipped to the site. It’s upper windows were cracked open and the panes of glass were wet with moisture from the plants that Derek was starting inside.

He’d built raised beds everywhere that he could, one had fresh soil and a pitchfork stuck into the soil. There was a clattering sound coming from the potting shed behind the greenhouse and when Stiles turned to see what it was, Derek appeared carrying netting and an armful of bamboo stakes.

“Hey,” he said, flashing his completely disarming smile at Stiles. “Could you grab some of this?” he said of the bamboo stakes that were slipping out of his arms.

Stiles ran over to help him. 

“What are you doing?” Stiles asked, trying not to inwardly panic at the fact that he had resolved to do Something when he saw Derek again. Helping him carry stakes was something. He’d do that.

“I need to put up trellises for the peas. I got them in last week but haven't gotten this part done.” he answered, dropping everything by the freshly turned bed.

“So this is going to be a vegetable garden?” Stiles asked.

“And herbs. Maybe some flowers, but we’ll see about that.” Derek shoved one of the stakes into the soil and started down the bed, placing them in even intervals. “Come over here and help me hold these while I tie them,” he said, as he tied the bamboo stakes into inverted v’s.

“Where’d you learn all of this?” Stiles asked. Because Derek has a legit green thumb.

“We had a big garden at the house. It was my dad’s garden mostly, but we all helped.”

Stiles followed Derek, helping him place the netting, learning about peas and how to sow them and when they’d be ready for harvest. He also surreptitiously watched as Derek moved, and for the first time in years he allowed himself to appreciate Derek’s arms and back, and the way his legs flexed and his glorious, glorious ass. Last summer, when he'd been helping Derek with construction, he'd had plenty of opportunity to look. He'd wanted to, he really had, but he wasn't available. Now he basically had multiple blessings to look. Far be it for him to turn down blessings. And so he watched the flexion and extension of Derek's forearms and the way his shoulder blades moved beneath his shirt. And his ass. His glorious, magnificent ass.

Every once in a while Derek would look at him and smile. He'd look him in the eye and tell him that he needed a stake or for Stiles to hold in a certain spot and his eyes would glint and he was just so ridiculously beautiful.

Derek Hale was beautiful. He was kind. He cared about Stiles. He was funny. And awesome. He was also hot as fuck.

He was going to do Something. He didn’t know what, but it was gonna happen now.

“So Lydia was downstairs. Outside. We talked. It was good,” he started.

Derek stilled, just for a second and then kept working. “Yeah?” he said, his tone wary.

“Jackson set it up. There really were things that we needed to say to each other, you know, to move on with our lives.”

Derek had turned so that Stiles couldn’t see his face. His movements had turned just the slightest bit jerky and aggressive. And then he stopped what he was doing and stood completely still.

“Derek? You okay?”

Derek wheeled around and faced Stiles. “Are you moving out?” he asked.

“Why would I move out?” Stiles asked, confused.

“The text, Jackson’s text. You’re interested in someone and now you’re moving on.”

“Okay, first of all, I don’t know what you read, and I’m sorry if it offended you -”

“Why would I be offended, Stiles? You have the right to be with whoever you want. Go read your book and blow whoever it is you’re supposed to blow,” Derek said, clearly angry.

“Wait,” Stiles said, realization dawning, “you’re jealous!”

Derek just scowled at Stiles. Scowly Wolf. Stiles hadn’t seen Scowly Wolf in years. Scowly Wolf always reminded Stiles of when Derek pinned him to the door in his room. Stiles loved Scowly Wolf. Scowly Wolf _did things_ to Stiles.

Derek turned and stalked back to the potting shed.

Stiles stood in the garden for a moment smiling goofily to himself. Derek was jealous because he'd worked out that Stiles was interested in someone. Of course, that someone was him, but he didn't know that yet. 

You could say Stiles' confidence was boosted. Slightly. Because he didn't want to get too full of himself or anything. But Derek Hale liked him and was so jealous that Scowly Wolf had made an appearance. Hot damn!

Stiles pulled out his phone. Dialed. Heard Derek’s phone ring.

“Stiles, leave me alone!” Derek shouted.

“Answer your damn phone!” he shouted back.

He heard Derek sigh loudly and then heard Derek say, “What?” shortly into the phone.

“I figure before you blow someone you should ask them out,” he said. “It only seems polite.”

He could practically feel Derek’s eye roll through the phone. “Yeah, Stiles - whatever,” Derek snapped.

“I think I should feel up to a date by Saturday. That'd be two weeks since I first got sick." He stopped for a moment, and then squeezed his eyes shut and said, "Anyhow, you want to go out on a date with me?”

Derek went silent on the other end. Stiles smirked. And then he tried to see Derek, but he was in the shed, and he was being far too quiet. Just before Stiles legit started to worry that he'd somehow read the situation entirely wrong, Derek said, “Jackson was talking about me.”

“Yeah, Derek. He was talking about you." Stiles answered, smiling.

“Oh,” Derek said, sounding embarrassed.

Stiles hoped he was embarrassed about being wrong about Jackson's text. Or maybe surprised that Stiles had asked him out. Not looking for a polite way out, which he should probably address.

“Um, just so you know," he said, "no is an okay answer, but if you don’t want to go out with me, please forget I just asked you out so that we can be friends. Because I really don't know what I'd do if you weren't my friend.”

Derek was quiet for a moment and when he talked, his voice was husky. “Everything is shut down,” he said.

“So is that a yes? Or a no. Because either is fine, but I, personally, would prefer yes. But no is okay too.” Stiles asked, because seriously, clarification would be an awesome thing.

“What would we do?” Derek asked.

“So, assuming that is a yes, which would be awesome, I’ll figure it out. I’m the one asking. Them’s the rules, yeah?” Stiles answered.

“You’re not really supposed to leave the loft,” Derek said, sounding disappointed.

“So I’ll cook for you," Stiles proposed while starting to realize that this was going better than he'd hoped. "Something great. And we can watch a movie in that huge cinema room downstairs. I'll pop popcorn. I’ll borrow Big Gulp cups from Isaac - I know for a fact that they're using those for their glasses. I’ll get you Skittles and M&M’s in those special theater boxes. And it will be a date.”

“I like Sugar Babies,” Derek said.

“Sugar Babies it is,” Stiles promised.

“I’ve been meaning to watch Rogue One.”

“Holy shit, Derek,” Stiles exclaimed, “you haven’t seen _Rogue One_ ? We are so watching _Rogue One_.”

“When do you have the time to watch all of these movies?” Derek asked,

“I don’t sleep, and Rogue One is, like, 4 years old, Derek.” Stiles said.

“Okay,” Derek said.

“Okay? To Rogue One, or, oh! The date! You're saying yes to the date! Okay!” Stiles said, and Derek laughed.

“So, um, I’m going to lock myself in my room until then, lots to do, school and such,” Stiles said.

“You need to eat,” Derek said.

“Well, yeah, duh, but this is now weird, because we live together, so bye,” Stiles said, and hung up the phone.

“I can see you,” Derek yelled, teasing.

“Quit being a creeper, Creepy McCreeperson,” yelled Stiles.

“Go lock yourself in your room,” Derek yelled.

“You’d like that too much,” Stiles yelled back.

“I would.” Derek teased as Stiles went inside. “So go do it.”

Holy Shit. He asked Derek out. He asked Derek I've-been-hot-for-you-since-the-first-moment-that-I-saw-you Hale, the most beautiful person on the planet, and he said okay!

Now all that he had to do was keep it together until Saturday, plan a meal, get Sugar Babies - whatever!

Holy shit!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to torture yourself a little with terrible acting, you can watch the [ Iconic Roof Scene from the Room](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mIfWMb3riN0) by clicking the link. It is totally a thing Stiles would dig.
> 
> I have an [ active Sterek blog](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fyeahsterek72); updates are published there. Come join me!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. My migraines have been bad. I read that it's been an issue for a lot of people during quarantine.
> 
> Anyhoo, here's your dose of fluff for the day.

Turns out, Stiles didn't have time to worry about upcoming dates because the next day Deaton, Scott, AND Malia showed up with a huge, grey, wirey, droopy jowled mongrel dog with a mangled lamb stuffed animal in its mouth. Apparently, Delphina had belonged to an old couple who were now in a nursing home that didn't allow dogs. Lamby was Delphina’s one and only toy and if she didn’t know where Lamby was, she paced and howled until Lamby was located. 

Derek had agreed to take Delphina in as a foster because no one else wanted her. Derek was nice. Such a Hufflepuff.

"She's ten," explained Scott of the massive beast that was lounging beside Derek. "She's been at the shelter for a while. She's an Irish wolfhound; it's hard to get people to adopt huge dogs, but on top of that, she’s a senior dog. She may not have much more time left. But she's the most chill dog I've ever met."

She'd taken to Derek immediately, looking at Deaton mournfully for a moment as he released her collar from it's leash, trotting over to Derek and flopping down onto the floor beside him.

But Delphina didn't come alone, it turns out. Because Malia was toting a blue pet carrier that was emanating a low, steady growl. Harry Whodini had been discovered one morning in Delphina's kennel. No one knew where he came from or how he got there, just that no matter what the shelter staff tried to do the skinny, young, ginger tabby always found his way back to Delphina. 

"He doesn't really seem to like anyone," Malia said, wincing as the cat darted his paw out at her hissing.

"You are a coyote human, Malia, and Scott is an Alpha werewolf. Of course he doesn't like you." Stiles said. "Give him to me and I'll put him by his lady. Harry and I are gonna bond. We're gonna be bros."

When Stiles took the carrier the growling quieted and then stopped. Inside of the carrier, Harry was looking at Stiles like if he could, he would rip everyone in the room to shreds. "Hey there, asshole. Chill out," he said, putting the carrier so that Harry could see Delphina. When the carrier rested on the floor, Henry plopped over and put out his paw. Delphina moved her head just enough that Harry could touch her.

"They are so married." Stiles said, and Derek snorted and smiled. “Her name should be Maude.” He looked around and everyone was just looking at him. “ _ Harold and Maude? _ The movie? Old lady, young dude? They fall in love?” He asked as everyone, even Deaton, shook their heads. “You all disappoint me so much,” he said, plopping down beside Delphina, letting her sniff his hand.

Deaton was giving Stiles one of his undecodable, witchy looks. Scott and Malia were looking back and forth between Derek and Stiles, and the longer they did it, the bigger Scott's dimples grew and the more Malia kept smiling and giving Scott side-eye. 

"Mr. Stilinski," Deaton started, and everyone jumped.

"How many times am I going to have to beg you to call me Stiles before you always do it?" Stiles asked.

"You are training to be an emissary, Stiles," Deaton answered, "it should be the way everyone addresses you."

"But I'm not Mr Stilinski, that's my dad," Stiles protested.

"He is Sheriff Stilinski. You are Mr. Stilinski. There is a difference."

"Okay," Stiles said, and Deaton gave him a wry smile, because Deaton was on to him about his ‘okay’ tactic. Because Deaton was mysterious and knew everything. 

"Speaking of training, when was the last time you practiced your grounding?" he asked.

Last summer, Deaton and Stiles had done a deep dig through the Hale family vault's library. The library wasn't large, but most of the books were in either Old English, Latin, French, or Russian, so they weren't easy reading. Lydia had been a big help with the Latin and Derek knew a little high school French, which left Stiles with the Old English and, interestingly enough, Isaac with the Russian. His grandma had been Russian. He didn't know the language well, but he knew it enough of it to translate his Baba's letters and cards. It was something.

Anyhow, Stiles and Deaton had been determined to finally understand what it was that Stiles could do with his Spark. And if he was some sort of supernatural something, just what sort of something he was. The general consensus was that he was human but sparky. Which explained nothing.

What they had figured out was that Stiles could manipulate energies, but more esoteric energies, like ley lines, earth vortices, body meridians, and chakras. He hadn't pursued the meridians or chakras much because he couldn't figure out how to consistently sense them. But ley lines and vortices he could now feel if he focused. Initially he’d had to be on earth - his feet had to physically be touching soil. Concrete, the floor, a largish rock, no dice. Deaton thought that it shouldn’t really matter where Stiles' feet were, that he should always be able to tune in to the earth no matter where he was - even if he were in an airplane 10,000 feet off of the ground. Thus the "grounding," which was the term that they’d come up with for feeling the energies everywhere. 

Now, if he concentrated hard enough, Stiles could feel the energy pulsing in an ancient, primeval sort of way. It's the only way that he can describe what he feels - like something older and wider than he can understand, something wise and strong, often forgiving, but fierce and brutal at times, too. It wasn't dark like the Nogitune, but vast and bright and pure. The energy felt like something that always was.

Of course, there was a big ass ley line running through Beacon Hills, connecting the Nemeton to the earth's energy. It wasn't too difficult for him to feel grounded in Beacon Hills. It had been a bit more difficult in Berkeley, but he'd figured out how to do it, eventually.

The question of how he did what he did or what he did with it, exactly, remained a mystery. Because Beacon Hills had been quiet and no monster of the week had popped up in years. So he hadn't had to use it.

In Stiles' opinion, everyone had gotten too complacent. Training hadn't been a high priority, having lives (and getting therapy for the lives they’d already lived) had been. But Stiles' wasn't complaining about that, either. If the boogeyman wanted to stay out of Beacon Hills, good for him, and even better for Stiles' mental health.

"Not since I left Berkeley." Stiles said. "Also, where’s your mask? You got new superpowers that I don't know about?"

Deaton gave one of his wry smiles."No superpowers, Stiles, but what I do have is a very powerful protection amulet. I also have one for you, he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a dog tag on a chain. It was covered in protection runes that had been hand etched. "I'm working on them for the essential workers in town but right now, your father, Chris, Melissa and I are the only ones with them. Melissa is still wearing protective equipment."

"When she can get it," lamented Scott.

"Yes, the healthcare workers will be first, Scott," Deaton said in reassurance, and then turned back to Stiles. "I'd like you to work with Delpina and Harry on your meridians and chakras. As Scott said, Delphina is the most even tempered dog I've come across in a long time. She'll let you tune in to her. She's also elderly and it most likely won't be long until she develops arthritis or another condition. Derek can take her pain, but you might actually be able to heal her of some of her conditions.

"As for Mr Whodini? He's only a year old but he's not the most agreeable cat. He definitely wants things his way. See if you can calm him. Balance his chakras. Gingers are typically quite loveable."

"He definitely isn't," Scott commented, hauling huge bags of dog food off of the freight elevator as Malia brought in litter and boxes and bags of dog and cat supplies.

"I can't believe you agreed to this," Stiles said, petting Delphina while Harry watched him warily from the carrier. 

"They'd found fosters for the other animals," Derek said. "They couldn't find anyone who would take them. And where are we going? Wouldn't hurt to have some animals to take care of. Plus I'm good with dogs."

"Wonder why," Stiles snarked.

"No dog jokes, Stiles," Derek sighed.

"Did I make a dog joke? I didn't. Not at all."

"She'll also give us a reason to take walks. You need to get out, I'm pretty sure."

"Gonna tear through more walls if I don't soon," Stiles agreed, looking at the hole Derek had punched out for the kitchen entrance.

“Just be sure to take Harry with you,” Scott said. “At the shelter, if they tried to leave with Delphina for a walk he’d yowl and destroy everything he could get his claws on. But he follows right along for walks.”

“So married,” Stiles remarked.

"Hey Stiles, could you help me with something in the lobby while Malia helps Derek get things set up here?" Scott asked.

"Sure," said Stiles, hopping up. 

"I'll follow you down," Deaton said, following Scott and Stiles into the elevator.

They were silent until they were about halfway down to the lobby when Scott finally said, "Dude! Did something happen between you and Derek?"

"Why? Because Lydia stopped by? Or because Jackson is playing matchmaker? Or perhaps because you have been in on it the whole time, too?" Stiles said, pointing dramatically at Scott in mock accusation.

"Yes!" answered Scott, too excited to know what was happening to play along with Stiles. "But also because - sometimes I forget that you can't sense it like Malia and I can - but you could feel it," he finished, not getting more specific, but getting that dreamy Scott-in-love look in his eye.

"You could feel it," Stiles stated, because as usual, no, he didn't feel it and he wanted specifics. He always wanted specifics.

"Oh, I could feel it," Deaton said, matter-of-factly, and Scott and Stiles stared at him for a second because just when you thought you'd finally gotten Deaton, he said something that totally threw you.

"I asked him out on a date," Stiles said, talking to Scott again. "On Saturday. I'm going to need your help, actually, with a few things," Stiles said.

"Stiles! Holy shit, dude!" Scott said, beaming, and then wrinkled his brow and said, "I owe Jackson 20 dollars. Like he needs more money."

"You had a bet with him?" Stiles said, and now he was annoyed.

"Just that I thought it would take you 3 to 4 days to ask him out because you'd obsess about what to say. He said you'd do it almost immediately. It should be noted that no one thought you wouldn't do it," Scott said.

In the lobby, Stiles looked around and said, "Was there more to carry?"

"I mostly just wanted to get you away from Derek for a while, but that box came for him.” He said, pointing to a huge box by the elevator. He then asked, “So what are you gonna do? You said you needed help."

"Dinner and a movie. I said I'd cook. Can you keep everyone away from here Saturday night?" Stiles asked.

Scott grinned, giving Stiles a knowing look and said, "Anything for you. What are you gonna cook? I could help you get ingredients.

“I don't know. Thought I'd figure it out at the store,” Stiles said.

Scott snorted and said, “Stiles, you can't just go to the store anymore. It's this whole thing now. There's lines to get in, shelves are empty, and Derek would have a fit about you exposing yourself like that. I’ve been Stiles, and the lines and general insanity would drive you insane.”

“Okay, I'll get it delivered,” Stiles conceded.

“If you can get a delivery spot,” Scott said, and then brightened and said, “Malia and I signed up for a steak club a couple of months ago and I've got a few huge ribeyes I can give you.”

“Steak.club?” Stiles said, looking disbelievingly at Scott. “YOU are so married.”

“What?” waved off Scott. “It’s convenient and we like steak. So do ribeyes sound cool? I do have some filets but they're small.”

Stiles smiled at Scott. “Yeah, sure. Ribeye steaks sound great. We’ve got a fridge full of other stuff, so I can figure something out.”

“You know, we could take one of the unused spaces and turn it into something cool. That way you’d actually be taking him out of the loft,” Scott suggested, and he had the I’m-coming-up-with-an-awesome-plan look.

“I’m not good at stuff like that, Scott, and I don’t want to make this too big. Just dinner and a movie.”

“Let me talk to Malia. Oh! And Erica!”

“Don’t tell everyone, Scott! Could we just keep this a little on the down low, you know, in case it’s a terrible date?”

“Okay, only Malia. And I’ll text you about details,” Scott said, which didn’t bode well for Stiles having any control over anything from this point forward, because Scott was a total romantic and LOVED planning dates. 

“Scott, only dinner and a movie. Which will be  _ Rogue One _ . And popcorn and Sugar Babies and huge sodas.”

“Like an actual movie theater,” said Scott, smiling and shaking his head in agreement. “I like it. I’ll get on it.”

“Just dinner and a move. No huge production. No grand romantic gestures, because I know how you are, Scottie, and while I love you with all of my heart, we are entirely different people.”

Scott put his hand and raised two fingers up using their childhood oath and said, “Just dinner and a movie. _ Rogue One _ . No one but Maila.”

“I take the oath seriously, Scott,” Stiles said. He really did. It meant that you did what you said. It was serious. Also, Scott hadn’t used the oath in years.

“I know you do, which is why I’m making the sign. As your best friend, your brother, and your Alpha, on my honor, I pledge to not go overboard. Just dinner and a movie.”

Stiles stared at Scott for a moment. From all reports, Scott was actually pretty good at dates. He had actually dated, too, instead of hooking up with a girl at a mental institution and then being practically married almost immediately and then going to school 3000 miles away from his lady. And he was making the Bro Oath. Which he knew Stiles took  _ very _ seriously.

“Okay. Just so we’re clear, you will text me everything. Because dinner at the table at Derek’s would be amazing, too.”

“Yeah, but this is your first date! With the guy you had your sexuality breakdown over and who is now your best friend,” Scott said. “It’s Derek, Stiles! It should be special.”

“I will let you talk to Malia. That is all I agree to. You text me everything and I agree to let you help.”

Scott’s dimples returned, he was smiling so widely. “You won’t regret it, Stiles,” he said, making the Oath again.

Stiles hefted the box into the elevator and gave Scott the I’m-trusting-you look, and Scott gave him the it’ll-be-great look. He gave him the Bro Oath one more time.

Stiles smiled and gave it back before hitting the button for Derek’s loft.

When Stiles got back up to the loft, Malia and Derek were standing beside each other looking at the cat’s crate. Derek looked slightly scared, “I’m not opening that up. He wants to kill me,” he said,

“Well he’s already tried to kill me,” Malia said.

Stiles smiled at them and walked up to the crate and sat down in front of it. He looked over his shoulder at Derek and said, “There’s a box for you in the elevator. Leave this asshole to me.”

Stiles looked at Delphina and said, “Let’s free your husband,” and Delphina sat up and her tail started to wag, loudly thumping on the floor. He opened the carrier. Malia and Derek weren’t breathing. Harry peeked around the edge of the carrier and glared at Derek and Malia and then sniffed in Stiles’ direction. He put both front paws out of the carrier and then slowly stretched his back. He stood back up again and, casually as you please, walked over to Delphina and rubbed his head against her nose, chirping as he did it.

He slowly and carefully started to tour the loft, Delphina always in view.

“See, no big,” Stiles said. “He just needed out of the cage to explore his new digs.”

Just then Derek walked a little too close to Harry and he reared up and hissed. Delphina walked over to Harry, licked the top of his head, and let out a quiet, ‘woof.’ Harry slowly calmed down as Delphina nudged him with her nose.

“Look, they can talk to each other. She’s telling him to chill out and he doesn’t like it but he’s listening to her,” Stiles said, and Derek backed up and walked out the door, keeping his eyes on Harry.

“Just two top cats in the same loft. It’ll be cool, won’t it, Harry?” he said, slowly extending his hand to Harry. Harry looked at it suspiciously while Delphina licked it. And then Harry touched his wet nose to the tip of Stiles index finger. And then he licked Stiles' finger with his sandpaper tongue. And then he was done, apparently, as he turned his butt to Stiles and continued to explore.

Stiles stood up and pumped his fist. “I’m a cat whisperer,” he said in triumph as Derek carried the box over to the table.

Malia decided that it was a good time to leave and backed out the door, watching Harry until she got the door closed. “Good luck,” she said from the other side.

“Come over here,” Derek said. “I got something for us to do.”

He was opening the box, tearing through the packing tape with one of his claws, and holy shit, if  _ that _ didn’t do things to Stiles. Let’s just face it. Everything Derek  _ did _ did things to Stiles. But claws? Weirdly hot.

“Come on!” he said, obviously excited about the box's contents. And when Stiles looked in, he could see why. Because Derek had bought total nerd paradise. 

Derek had bought Lego sets. But not just any Lego sets. Harry Potter Lego sets. The Night Bus and Minifigures. The Hogwarts Express. The Burrow. And the piece de resistance, Hogwarts Castle.

“Hogwarts? Derek, where did you even get this? I thought these were sold out!” Stiles exclaimed.

“You can find anything on eBay,” Derek said. “I know that this is hard for you, not being able to leave, the whole social isolation thing, and some guy was selling his collection.”

“Do we get to make them? Do we get to open them and actually build them?”

“What fun is it if we don’t?” Derek asked.

“This is amazing!” Stiles said and Derek smiled. “But this had to have cost so much.”

“I got a deal,” Derek said, and when Stiles didn’t seem pleased with that answer he said, “I hardly ever buy things like this just because I want them. I have a million books because those don’t feel selfish. I build with things I find at resale shops and salvage yards. I try to do things economically, and I know that you have a difficult time believing this, but I have the money. 

“I didn’t spend it for so long because I didn’t feel like I deserved it.” He sighed and continued, “After you left for school Peter came over and had a talk with me and Malia about using our inheritance. And about how I specifically needed to quit living like a squatter. Because my mom wouldn’t like to see that.” Derek paused, and looking at the floor, he said, “And how she wouldn’t blame me.”

Stiles was stunned. “Peter said those things to you?” he asked, because as far as Stiles was concerned, Peter was still a creepy zombie wolf who he’d never really trust. Because he’d tried to kill Stiles. And then Stiles had helped set him on fire and buried him.

So there was that.

“Dr. Richardson told me that he thinks Peter’s brain is healing. That it was damaged in the fire but it’s getting better now. There’s pieces of uncle Peter coming through,” Derek said. He then looked at Stiles and continued, “I wanted to buy this, Stiles, because it will be fun and we both love Harry Potter,”

“Who doesn’t?” Stiles said. Because even if people said that they hated Harry Potter, they just hadn’t caught the fever yet. It would be proven eventually. 

“And so I bought it.” Derek said with finality. “So what are we building first?”

Stiles sidled up to Derek and leaned in and said, “You are a total geek, Derek Hale, and I like it.”

Derek blushed and looked at the ground. “I like you, too, Stiles,” he said. “And if you don’t choose, we are starting small and saving Hogwarts for last.”

“I am down with that plan,” Stiles agreed, smiling back at Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Delphina was inspired by the [photo at this link](https://droppedstitches72.tumblr.com/post/617863948333694976) and here's [Harry](https://droppedstitches72.tumblr.com/post/617863899927199745)
> 
> The Lego are because [Daniel Radcliffe is doing Lego sets with his girlfriend during quarantine](https://www.mugglenet.com/2020/05/daniel-radcliffe-reveals-his-next-lego-project-and-quarantine-nickname/).
> 
> I'm not going to string you along even more, the date is next!
> 
> I have an [ active Sterek blog](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fyeahsterek72); updates are published there. Come join me!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The links take you to the mentioned songs. In case you need some jams. There's also a definition link, to be a little meta. 
> 
> [The Great Bi Awakening playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLoYDiCGS25o3pdlzCcwlwhjDbWDnhs2Bh)

The next day was a busy one. Between text messages with the members of the _He Asked Derek Out!!!_ contact list set up by Scott (which included Scott, Malia, Jackson, Lydia, and him), walking animals (including one very long walk into the Preserve with Derek), building sick Lego (the Night Bus, and when they were done with that they were moving on to Hogwarts Express), having to finally write that paper (which he banged out in 2 hours when he woke up), and a surprise visit from Peter (who seemed very bored with everything), Stiles kept pretty busy.

The texting group would chime in randomly throughout the day with questions about what Stiles was going to cook (Jackson), what he was going to wear (Lydia), where the date would be occurring (basically right outside their door, just a little around the corner, so that the food didn’t have to get carried far), when he was going to trim his beard (Jackson and Lydia), that he absolutely must trim the beard (everyone), alternate movie suggestions (it would be _Rogue One_ , Stiles would not budge on that), and updates on candy and ginormous soda cup acquisition (Malia). 

When Peter showed up, Derek and Stiles were working on the Night Bus with Stiles’ Spotify Likes playlist entertaining them. After he’d ran his hands over Delphina’s coat and stared deeply into her eyes (while Harry sat in the windowsill emanating a low growl), Peter sat at the other end of the farmhouse table, his arms crossed, every once in a while making a snarky comment, but generally just being creepy. Derek had been very hospitable when he’d shown up, though, so Stiles had decided to give Peter a chance. 

Stiles had abandoned his chair ages ago so that he could boogie to his jams. With each new song that came on, Peter’s look of distaste grew. 

“What, you don’t like my musical tastes?” Stiles finally said while busting a move to Usher's [ _Love in this Club_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cB5e0zHRzHc) . He then pointed at Peter and said, “Hey, you know what I just found out? If you look up ‘[ennui](https://fyeahsterek72.tumblr.com/post/618406370931310592/ennui-ahn-wee-ahn-wee-french-ahn-nwee-a)’ in the dictionary, your face is the definition.”

“Thank you,” Peter said, giving Stiles a slightly defeated smile.

“It’s not a compliment,” Stiles said, trying to look like he really did care about Peter (but kinda he didn’t) while still being a bit of an ass.

“Yes, but ennui is my life, and I’m happy that someone has finally acknowledged it,” Peter said, pulling out his phone with a dramatic sigh.

“And they call you a drama queen,” Stiles said to Derek, who gave him an absolutely-no-one-calls-me-a-drama-queen look.

[ _What Makes You Beautiful_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QJO3ROT-A4E), which is truly a modern classic, came on next. So of course Stiles proceeded to sing to Derek while doing sweet boy band dance moves using an extra long Lego brick as a microphone. Derek maintained his poker face through furious concentration on the bricks, giving Stiles quick glances, which Stiles used to his advantage to wink and finger gun at Derek. 

Peter watched the entire thing, occasionally glancing at his phone, while looking entirely unimpressed.

Lizzo was on next. “Ain't my fault that I'm out here gettin' loose, Gotta Blame It on my Juice,” Derek mumble-sang, and Stiles couldn’t help but beam at him. Derek glanced up at him, grinned, and then went back to building while singing [_Juice_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XaCrQL_8eMY).

“I’m okay with Lizzo,” Peter said, now looking disappointed and bored. “And I actually don’t object to One Direction. It’s the total lack of anything other than Top 40s Pop that I object to. I see that I’m going to have to educate you,” he finished with a sigh.

“You gonna make me a mixtape?” Stiles quipped.

Peter had his phone out and was tapping on the screen. “No, but I am going to buy you some decent music.”

“Derek’s got music,” Stiles commented while reading the Lego directions.

“Yes, I know he does, because those albums were all mine. I let him have them,” Peter said, waving in the direction of the bookshelves, “they were just gathering dust in the vault. What you’re missing, though, is late eighties to the 2000s.”

“Oh! Brittney!” Stiles said, and Peter made a noise of disgust.

“I liked [_Baby One More Time_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C-u5WLJ9Yk4), every human and non-human male did,” Peter said, still typing, and Derek raised his eyebrows and nodded in agreement. Peter continued, “but if you think that Brittney Spears is the sum total of music in the 90s, there is more work to do than I thought.”

Derek was smiling to himself. Stiles turned dramatically to Derek, pointed at hims, and started Yaya-Heeing. Derek sniggered.

“By the way, how long has this been going on?” Peter said, not looking up from his phone but gesturing between Derek and Stiles.

“Wha- you mean me and Derek and the Legos?” Stiles said, knowing full well what Peter was referring to.

“It’s Lego, and something has changed in the usual level of sexual tension between the two of you,” Peter said.

Derek looked at Peter and said, quite calmly and matter-of-factly, “Stiles and I are dating.”

“It’s early on, though, because you haven’t had sex,” Peter stated, staring at Derek like he was trying to read his mind. Maybe he was. Peter was weird.

“How could you possibly know that?” Stiles challenged, looking between Derek and Peter.

Peter inhaled, slumped back into his chair and resumed typing into his phone. “Werewolf,” he answered.

“That’s it? That’s all anyone ever says to me, ‘werewolf’, like it’s the answer to everything! Well, I am declaring, right here and now, that 'werewolf' is no longer an acceptable answer to any question that I ask. So, just for further clarification, what, specifically, led you to the conclusion that we haven’t had sex?” Stiles said in frustration, because he was tired of all the mumbo-jumbo. 

Meanwhile, Derek was giving Stiles his shut-the-hell-up-why-don’t-you-ever-stop-talking look. Stiles winked at him cheekily.

“You don’t smell like him and he doesn’t smell like you. Because you haven’t marked each other. With semen,” Peter said, looking challengingly at Stiles.

Stiles pursed his lips and continued to stare at Peter so that he didn’t have to look at Derek. 1 - he had SO many questions, and now was not an appropriate time to ask any of those questions; but also 2 - we are not even _talking_ about sexy times yet! The subject has not been broached! _Semen_ is not a word we use! Abort! 

He cleared his throat and said, “Well, now I know. Thank you for that educational highlight.”

Derek, who was now bright red, was concentrating furiously on his Lego.

Peter smiled wolfishly and stood up. “You have cds coming. Listen to them,” he said, before turning and sauntering out the door.

“Let me know when he’s out of earshot,” Stiles said after the door closed, staring at the instruction book.

After a few minutes, Derek nodded and Stiles erupted. “What a creeper!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms up and pacing. “And you don’t go into a man’s home and insult his music!”

He was worked up, man, just like that. Also, so many questions! Like were they really going to smell like each other’s spunk? Maybe eventually if things go well and it leads to that? And would their friends even want to be around them if they smelled like spunk all of the time? Because that's just gross.

“It’s a pheromone thing. We will not smell like spunk,” Derek said with a tiny, embarrassed smile.

And shit, Stiles had been talking. Now was not the time for his thoughts to leak out.

“Okay. Again, thank you for that educational insight,” Stiles snarked, finally really looking at Derek.

Who looked like a Colgate commercial, because he had this incredulous smile on his face. “That was insane,” he said, laughing.

“Right? And that was mild! He’s insane, Derek! But he’s buying me things, and Stiles likes the things, so I’m actually a little conflicted.”

Derek sniggered and started throwing bricks at Stiles and [ _Milkshake_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pGL2rytTraA) started playing. Stiles got his groove on and Derek stood up and started dancing - and he wasn’t half bad. And it was awesome.

___

On the afternoon of the date, Jackson showed up, told Derek he was stealing Stiles, and pulled him up into his bedroom closet. He sent Lydia a Zoom invite on an iPad, and then she was there, in Stiles' closet, too, because of the wonders of technology. They made Stiles try on multiple shirt and pant combos, before settling on a deep red, cashmere sweater and black pant combo that Lydia said she’d always thought he looked good in and Jackson said made his ass look good and would make Derek want to undress him. 

During the proceedings, Jackson very obviously and with absolutely no shame checked him out and said, “Damn, Stilinski! Looking good.”

Stiles did yoga. It helped him keep calm. He did it in this hippie studio in Berkeley where they burned incense, rang bells and played nature cds. It was the best thing ever, and he was actually really strong for the first time in his life. It also helped with lacrosse, which he was pretty good at, having won an award. 

He didn’t think he was anything special, though. He didn’t have a six-pack and really didn’t care if he ever got one. He wasn’t cut or anything, he was just strong. And balanced. Or getting there. Yoga was a process.

But then Jackson said, “It’s not really about what you look like, though, it’s more of a pull, or a draw. And you find that you can’t stop thinking about that person. And you start to notice their strengths and you realize that you actually admire them. And like them. The fact that you’re fit is an added bonus.”

“Damn, Jackson has evolved,” Stiles quipped, and then said, “Can I be like you when I grow up?”

“Stiles, there can be only one Jackson Whittemore,” Jackson scoffed.

“You’re awesome, evolved Jackson,” Stiles said. “And, um, hey. Thank you for being my bisexual this-is-the-first-guy-I’ve-dated mentor.”

“Look,” Jackson said, “all I know is if the two of you don’t bone soon, I am going to lose a bet. Someone’s gotta help you. And bacon wrapped filets are at risk. Can you believe that Scott and Malia subscribe to a steak club?”

Jackson was awesome.

He also trimmed Stiles’ hair and beard, because apparently Jackson was a man of many talents. He used creams and many, many more styling products than Stiles did. But he also made Stiles smell Amazing. And by the time he was finally done, Stiles felt like he had legit been through a make-over montage because he looked pretty good. Maybe even hot. If anyone could transform him into someone hot, it would be the dream team of Jackson and Lydia.

Anyhow, when Stiles finally emerged from his room hours later, now freshly trimmed, coiffed, showered and styled, Derek did that stare-at-Stiles-like-you-don’t-recognize-him thing again, and Jackson smirked.

“I have cooking to do,” Stiles said to Derek, who was still staring. 

It was awesome having Derek Hale stare at him like he was barely holding it together.

“Also, Scott and Malia will be watching the dog and cat and will be acting as your waitstaff,” Jackson said, looking very smug.

Derek nodded once, turned on his heel, and without saying anything, walked up the steps and into his room.

Jackson smirked at Stiles and said, “I can help you cook. Or I’ll get out of the way. Also, he’s not masturbating.”

“Jackson, what the hell!” Stiles exclaimed.

“Well, I thought he was going to, with the way he just left. Didn’t you see his jaw twitch? Classic tell,” Jackson explained, now openly smiling at Stiles.

“Okay, first off, he can hear you. Second, give the man some privacy. Third, cube those potatoes and put them in cold water,” Stiles said, throwing an apron at Jackson. He wasn’t going to turn down help. And he got to boss Jackson around, which, let’s face it, he’d always wanted to do..

He mouthed, “REALLY?!” to Jackson and Jackson smiled and nodded. He then said,

“Yes, chef! Cubing potatoes,” tying on his apron.

“And thanks, like, really, Jackson.” Stiles said.

“No problem,” Jackson said, smiling at Stiles.

Shortly before their date was to begin, Scott showed up with Malia. Scott grinned at Stiles, looked him over, and gave him two thumbs up. Jackson took over, telling Scott and Malia what they’d cooked and how to serve it. Everything was ready for the most part; Stiles just had to pick up his date.

He went over and stood at the bottom of the stairs and said, “Um, Derek? So Scott, Malia, and Jackson are here. Also, I am going to leave for a few minutes and then come back and knock on the door and you are going to answer it. And then Scott, Malia, and Jackson are going to mind their own business.”

“I’m leaving,” Jackson said, “Can’t hang out in this nerd lair much longer. All of the nerdom will start to rub off on me.”

He walked out of the loft with Stiles and gestured for Stiles to get onto the elevator with him. When they were at the magic out-of-earshot spot, Jackson said, “You’ve got this, Stilinski. He looked like he wanted to eat you when he saw you, we cooked an amazing meal, and the movie and snacks are all set up in the cinema. Just keep me updated; Ethan and I are looking forward to those filets.”

Stiles thanked Jackson again and took his time alone in the elevator on the way back up to give himself a mental pre-date pep talk. All things considered, he felt pretty good. It was just hanging out with Derek but on a date. No big.

When he knocked on the loft door, he was repeating the mantra “this is no big thing,” over and over in his head. And then Derek opened the door. And Stiles' brain short circuited. 

It wasn’t that Derek was wearing anything special, the man lived in head to toe black. And it was just a henley and black jeans, which also wasn’t any different. But this particular henley and jeans was just a little tighter than Derek’s day-to-day wear, and his shirt was tucked in, and all of Derek’s glorious muscles were right there, hypnotizing Stiles with their sexiness. And he’d shaved and spent time on his hair and generally looked absolutely beautiful. And he smelled fantastic. 

Stiles wanted to lick him, but that was generally frowned upon at the very beginning of a first date.

“Hi,” he finally said, and was proud of himself for being able to talk.

“Hi,” Derek answered back, and he sounded every bit as breathless as Stiles felt.

“So, I had a little help tonight, as you may have guessed,” Stiles said. 

“Yeah, figured that out,” Derek said, looking a little shy.

And then they stood in Derek’s doorway and just stared at each other. A - as Stiles had already noted, Derek was gorgeous. And he wanted to lick him. B - this was actually happening. And it was just the slightest bit surreal. Because it was something that Stiles never thought would ever happen. Ever. But here he was, picking Derek up for a date.

Scott cleared his throat from deeper in the loft. “You two should go. I hear you’ve got a nice meal ahead of you,” he said, smiling softly.

“Yeah,” Stiles said, composing himself. “Follow me,” he said to Derek, leading him to their dinner date area.

Scott and Malia had taken a dark alcove that was around the corner from Derek's foyer and strung up fairy lights and hung multiple glowing Chinese lanterns on cords at different lengths from the ceiling, leaving the whole alcove awash in soft light. In the middle of the alcove was a small dark wooden table and two chairs that was set with cutlery and glassware. Scott had put a few succulents and a small green plant in the middle of the table. He'd even made a playlist which he'd titled "Sexy Loungy Vibe." It was far superior to eating dinner at Derek's table. Derek looked around the area and was obviously impressed. Scott was a date master.

Dinner was a triumph. Stiles was a pretty good cook, at least that’s what everyone he’d ever fed had told him. But he’d went a bit further with this meal (and the help of his sous chef), making a balsamic reduction for the steaks, caramelizing onions, roasting potatoes with fresh garlic and rosemary and brussel sprouts with lemon, parmesan, and pancetta, and finishing it all off with chocolate mousse with raspberry coulis. Jackson had gotten the menu out of him beforehand and brought wine over - two varieties of some fancy red wine from France that Stiles had never heard of, one with a huge skull on it for Derek (because wolfsbane - Jackson didn’t want to kill Stiles, which was a nice sentiment) and one without poison for Stiles. Derek was impressed with Stiles' cooking skills which left Stiles feeling suitably chuffed. 

The air was charged with an atmosphere of potential. It was exciting. In the past he'd had to come up with some lame excuse or evasive maneuver when Derek caught him looking at him a little too long. Now he could look all he wanted.

And the conversation had flowed easily enough; Stiles had known that it would. Derek and Stiles didn’t really have an issue talking to each other anymore. They got each other, they were both intelligent and witty and they had a lot in common so neither one of them had to worry about the conversation faltering. It was easy to talk to Derek.

The thing was, Stiles didn’t really remember much of their conversation because an entirely different one also played out during dinner, and that one was much more interesting. And hella sexy.

It started when Stiles noticed Derek looking at his fingers as he ran them along the lip of his wine glass. When they were eating the green salad that Jackson had made, Derek watched as Stiles brought a piece of apple to his mouth, and kept watching as his mouth closed around the fork. By the third time Stiles caught Derek staring at him (his fingers again, as he ran them over his knife), he realized that he should really be using these moments to his advantage. 

The next time Derek stared, Stiles was again putting food into his mouth. Stiles tried to not be too obvious, because subtlety was always a good way to go with these things, but he closed his lips just a little more slowly, pulled the fork out a little more sensuously, and locked eyes with Derek just a little longer.

The whole dinner played out like that, because Derek eventually picked up on what Stiles was doing and started to play along. Stiles found himself looking at Derek’s Adam's apple when he swallowed, and Derek tiled his chin back slightly and looked at Stiles momentarily through his eyelashes. His eyes may have momentarily flashed. Stiles started stroking his beard (which was something he didn’t realize that he did until that dinner) and Derek watched his fingers, so Stiles stopped, held his fingers still, and locked eyes with Derek. 

By far the best moment was when he'd been talking about something between dinner and dessert (who knows what) and he'd unknowingly touched his lower lip with his index finger. Derek actually stopped breathing for a moment and went completely still. So Stiles just barely moved his finger, stroking his lower lip, and he may have imagined it, but he was pretty sure that Derek whimpered. 

When the mousse showed up, about halfway through eating it, Stiles purposefully got some on his finger (although he was again sly about it) and then he locked eyes with Derek and licked and the mousse off of it, sticking the tip of his finger in his mouth and hollowing his cheeks out just slightly. He was even a little coy about it, which was a new flirting technique for him. And Derek's eyes widened, his nostrils flared, he stared, and he quit breathing as his mouth fell open.

But then Derek said something about how good the mousse was and started basically fellating his spoon. Well, not really, he was actually licking and sucking seductively on it, very obviously aware of what he was doing and what it was doing to Stiles.

Stiles had never, ever been a subtle person, but he was beginning to see subtlety's virtues.

When dinner was over, neither one of them made a move to get up. Stiles was pleasantly tipsy, Derek seemed to be, too, and they both seemed too into flirt-staring at each other to do anything else.

Truth be told, what Stiles really wanted to do was dramatically sweep everything off of the table, grab Derek by his shirt, and kiss the hell out of him. He suspected, however, that Derek needed a gentler approach, what with his less than stellar dating history. So instead, after a suitable amount of flirting, he stood up and said, “We’ve got a movie to watch.”

“Yeah,” Derek said. Stiles had reduced him to single syllable words. 

He tried very hard not to feel smug about how well everything was going.

Derek followed him into the elevator and while they were descending to the lobby, they stood face to face. Derek’s eyes wandered to Stiles’ lips and stayed there. 

Like he’d already pointed out, Stiles was feeling smug. And as much as he wanted to kiss Derek, he also wanted to give him at least one complete, proper date before he did it. Because Derek seemed like a person that needed a bit of courting. Derek _deserved_ to be courted properly. And to be kissed at his front door. So instead of kissing him, he gave Derek a smile that said, ‘yes, I know what you want, and I want it, too, but it’s not going to happen just yet.’ Or at least he hoped his smile said that; at any rate, Derek looked him in the eyes and nodded his head in quiet acquiescence.

The elevator ride also gave Stiles an opportunity to get his hormones under control. Because did he mention that all he really wanted to do was jump Derek?

But he had a man to woo, and woo he would. He was going to woo the shit out of Derek Hale, and enjoy every minute of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an [ active Sterek blog](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fyeahsterek72); updates are published there. Come join me!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made a soundtrack, because this is Teen Wolf on MTv, and there should be a new song every five minutes, or at least each chapter. It is a work in progress until the story is completed, but there will be a link to the song and a link to the whole song list
> 
> [Chainsmokers, Coldplay - Something Just Like This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FM7MFYoylVs)
> 
> [The 1975 - fallingforyou](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W3JJxS0gNkE)
> 
> [Great Bi Awakening Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLoYDiCGS25o3pdlzCcwlwhjDbWDnhs2Bh)
> 
> So it's very fluffy, so super fluffy. We need fluff right now.
> 
> Also, I am aware that the formatting on the list is incorrect. I tried to fix it (it was correct in my original document) but the editor didn't want to cooperate with me. So just pretend that it's correct, okay? I want to be done with this chapter so we can get closer to the lemony goodness that awaits.

It is quite possible that during his teen years of trying to understand what was happening around him (and the all-consuming crush that he had on Derek) that Stiles had begun a list entitled “Derek’s Love Life” which still exists inside of a purple, spiral, college-ruled notebook with “LOTS OF PORN ” written on the front in Sharpie in the bottom of a box in his childhood bedroom closet. It is also possible that he had read and revised said list multiple times over the years (and as recently as last summer). It is a fact that said list is memorized and that Stiles has spent an inordinate amount of time determining how one could best serve Derek Hale as a romantic partner. What did Derek need in a relationship and a partner? 

The conclusions that Stiles had come to can be concisely summarized, and are written as follows:

  1. Kate Argent can go to hell. Probably is in hell. If necromancy weren’t so damn evil, Stiles would bring her back to life just so that he could kill her himself and avenge Derek and his family, psycho murderous pedophile bitch. 
    1. Because of her presence in Derek’s life, anything sexual must be done on Derek's terms and in Derek's time. Hopefully that would mean Derek launching himself at Stiles at some time in the near future, although Stiles had his doubts about that (last point for further). 
  2. Jennifer doesn't count except for the fact that Stiles vowed never to consciously manipulate Derek except in any case where said manipulation would save Derek's life.
  3. Braeden had been good for Derek. 
    1. He'd gotten to get his groove on for the first time ever. 
    2. He'd gotten to be with someone who he trusted and who treated him well. 
    3. She helped him get to the point where he was strong enough to connect to his mom and defeat Kate. 
    4. But Braeden had just been passing through and Derek knew it. So he also knew that it was really just a fling. A good fling, apparently, but a fling nonetheless.
    5. Derek Hale never struck Stiles as a fling type. More a ‘fall and stay forever’ type. So Braeden could be a tricky subject best saved for many years from now.


  1. Since Braeden there had been no one. Stiles didn't know how he knew that, he just did. He knew Derek and he knew that Derek was currently a celibate man.
  2. Derek had not really dated in any relationship that he'd had. Had sex, yeah, but little to no dating.
  3. Derek had possibly several months, maybe half a year of good sex where he was in control and doing what he wanted to do and that was it. 
  4. Therefore, against highly improbable odds, Stiles was the person in this equation that was more experienced in both romantic and sexual relationships. And by a wide margin.



Stiles had always thought it would be nice if someone would come along who would date Derek. Someone who wanted to buy him presents and chocolate - because of Derek’s legendary sweet tooth - and drop him off at his front door and do all of the high school stuff that Derek had missed out on. That it would be absolutely amazing if there were someone who romanced Derek and treated him well and made him feel important and heard and who wasn’t just a quick, heated fuck (although, that certainly and absolutely should be part of the entire package). 

Stiles never, ever thought he’d get to be the person to do those things for Derek. A - Derek was much too beautiful, both physically and psychologically, to be with a flawed person like Stiles. B - It was unlike karma to give Stiles two nice things in a row. He’d gotten the opportunity to be with Lydia already, and that hadn’t worked, so why would karma let him have Derek, who was possibly the only person alive more amazing than Lydia? But as improbable as it seems, karma had granted him Derek, and since Derek deserved everything, Stiles was going to do his best to give him that, starting with a bit of wooing and romancing.

The dinner had been amazing in that regard, what with all the sexual use of cutlery, but Stiles needed to find ways to keep it up. He needed to stay on his toes and recognize opportunities to lay on the romance.

So when the elevator stopped, Stiles pulled the grate open and put his hand on Derek's lower back and Derek momentarily stiffened, but then Stiles felt Derek’s body sort of have this argument with itself about it being totally cool that Stiles was guiding him and yeah, he was totally okay with that and just be cool man. Stiles felt the entire thing in the tensing and relaxing of Derek’s muscles, which was pretty amazing as well as slightly adorable. And then the moment was over and they were walking side by side into the theater.

Everything was already in the theater on a coffee table on the middle tier. It was a large theater with seating for around 25 people (and a lot more with pillows on the floor). The seats were fancy reclining sectionals because puppy piles were easier that way. Derek and Malia had wanted room for the entire pack, including upcoming or future children or spouses, so they’d gone large.

"You want a soda? Popcorn?" Stiles asked as Derek opened the pack of Sugar Babies.

"Maybe something to drink?" Derek suggested.

Stiles made Derek stay in the theater while he got the soda so that he could give himself a 'this is going fantastically and we aren't jumping Derek after this and let’s be on our best behavior' pep talk. Also, so that Derek could do whatever pep talk thing he needed to do. Give the introvert a bit of space.

When Stiles brought the enormous soda (which was in a 44 oz. cup that had actually come from the local theater and had [ Harley Quinn ](https://hilltown72.tumblr.com/post/619745524282802176/droppedstitches72-harley-quinn-birds-of-prey-cup) on its sides) into the theater, Derek was sitting and pouring himself a handful of Sugar Babies.

"Those things stick to my teeth," Stiles said.

"That is a ridiculous cup. I didn't even know cups existed that were that big," Derek said.

"First of all, Derek, this is America, and bigger is always better. So may I present to you 1 and ½ liters of the finest Pepsi-cola, procured and poured just for you. I have saved you from dehydration." Stiles said with a presenting flourish.

Derek sniggered and rolled his eyes. "Thank you for preventing my very unlikely dehydration,” he said, indicating that Stiles could put the soda on the coffee table. He then said of the Sugar Babies, “The trick with these is that you have to suck ‘em," and then he popped a Sugar Baby into his mouth and then proceeded to do very complicated things with his tongue while maintaining eye contact with Stiles and smirking.

"Oh, so we're still doing that, are we?" Stiles said with a smirk, putting his mouth around the straw seductively and sucking, exaggerating the hollowing of his cheeks.

Derek gave Stiles a wolf like grin and very subtly rolled his shoulders and then tipped his head fractionally back and to the right. Narrowed his eyes and glared just a bit.

"You are good, and that is hot," Stiles said, because, damn, Derek had made his own observations, hadn’t he?, "but I am going to have to up you with this:" 

Stiles smirked just a little wickedly and narrowed his eyes. And then rolled his neck, nice and slow and sensually with his hand cupping the back of his neck.

"You should start the movie," Derek said while still valiantly maintaining an aura of cool Derekness while obviously being more than a little affected by Stiles’ sexy smirk.

"Does that do it for you, the whole Dark Stiles act? I’m taking notes, Derek," Stiles said, mostly jokingly. Because we aren't jumping Derek tonight. We could hope that Derek would jump us, but we weren’t holding our breath. 

“I know you are,” Derek said. “You always are.”

Stiles grabbed the remote and his Sour Patch Kids and started the movie.

"Those things will destroy your salivary glands," Derek said, wincing at the memory of eating one.

"The secret, oddly enough, is sucking them," Stiles said, and then started to suck a candy slowly into his mouth. He knew Derek had watched him do it before, and so he teased Derek a little and threw in a hint of 'you know you want me' eyes.

It was exhilarating, and even though the fear of being caught was gone, there was still plenty of cat and mouse. Or Stiles and the Wolf. It was fun and even a little stupid while at the same time being sexy and maximally flirtatious.

They stared at each other for a few moments and then Stiles smiled, because damn, being on a date with Derek was fun! And then Derek smiled and his eyes lit up. 

And then Stiles heard blasters and remembered the movie going on in the background. One which he loved and wanted Derek to see. So smiled again and broke eye contact and restarted the movie.

"You didn't have to restart it," Derek protested.

"Who were those people who were shooting, Derek? What is the little girl's name?"

Derek looked flummoxed.

"Exactly," Stiles said, flailing to make his point. He continued, leaning in, “I will deny it to anyone else, because I told Scott that _Empire Strikes Back_ would always and forever be my favorite in the franchise - not that he really cares, he’s _still_ never seen _Star Wars_ and his cultural literacy is the worst - but this might be my favorite movie in the entire franchise. It’s _so_ good. You are now the only other person with that knowledge.”

When he looked at Derek, Derek was smiling fondly at him. “What?” Stiles asked back, because Derek’s smile was short circuiting his brain a bit.

“You’re a geek and I like it,” he said, popping another Sugar Baby into his mouth.

“Finally someone appreciates me,” said Stiles, watching the candy go into Derek’s mouth. Stiles wanted to be that candy.

He might have starred a bit longer than he realized because Derek said, “It’s starting, again, Stiles,” looking smug. 

Stiles doesn't know why he likes to toy with Derek - because until very recently it wasn't a very sane course of action - he just does, okay? And Stiles hadn't really had the opportunity to toy with Derek because Derek had been amazing and saintly since Stile had become his roommate and you can't toy with a person who is so damn kind. But sexy, smug Derek? Stiles _loved_ to toy with him. It was like a cat with a pill bottle. Pill bottle's eventually gonna end up on the floor, and from there, it's anybody's guess where it goes.

Stiles looked Derek hard in the eyes and let his mouth fall open and Derek's eyes flicked down to his mouth and when he looked Stiles in the eyes again he looked just the slightest bit - affected.

"Yeah, I know a little something about you," he said, biting his lower lip.

Derek fought valiantly yet again to maintain a cool demeanor, but Stiles wasn't buying it anymore. He'd just spent an hour figuring out more and more seductive ways to use his lips, to very positive results. Derek was so into Stiles’ lips.

"Here's what I know," he said, stopping to slowly lick his lips. "You are _so_ hot for me. You can't deny it anymore, Hale."

And then Derek smiled at him in an endearing 'yeah I am, dork," sort of way, which was a - not what he was going for but also, b - so frikkin' Derek that he could barely stand it.

Let's just admit it: he was so gone on Derek Hale. So fucking gone. Derek could respond in millions of ways and Stiles would be into every one of them.

"I will shut up from this point forward." Stiles said after refocusing on the task at hand. 

Derek actually snorted. "You _absolutely_ will not," he said, mocking Stiles.

"I will so! I want you to get the full Rogue One experience." Stiles protested.

And then Derek was staring at the movie screen, saying, "Her name is Jyn," completely drawn in. 

One thing Stiles loved about new and improved Derek was that he didn't try to hide when he liked something. If they were watching a movie he liked, he would get instantly sucked in. Movie Nerd Stiles found this both endearing and oddly hot.

He'd seen _Rogue One_ an embarrassing number of times, but now Stiles understood the reason behind that (beyond it just being an outstanding movie). It was so that during their very first movie date, Stiles could pay attention to Derek and not the movie. It was so that at a bit of a lull he could very intentionally take Derek's hand in his while Derek looked on in surprise and then quiet approval and see what it felt like to hold hands with Derek, and then to readjust until they were both comfortable holding hands. As expected, holding hands with Derek was a pretty great thing. Maybe a little odd, as Derek’s hands were stronger and thicker than his, but not something that he’d have a difficult time getting used to. And Derek liked to rub little circles with his thumb onto the back of Stiles' hand, and Stiles was a little embarrassed by how thrilling even that small movement was to him.

It was so that when he could tell Derek was maybe nearing hand holding fatigue he could let go nonchalantly and start tidying the candy boxes and offer Derek a drink of soda using some of his gentlemanly courting 'I am providing for you' skills. Derek mumbled about how ridiculous the size of the soda was again and then drank the equivalent of a medium drink in three gulps. Stiles said nothing and then took a sip (and not so that he could be a total girl and think about Derek's lips touching the straw, too. Not at all).

And then when that was over, it was so that he could throw his arm over Derek's shoulder, only for Derek to turn, grab Stiles' arm, move it to Stiles’ side, and readjust them so that Stiles was being held by Derek (which was millions of times better than the original plan).

Stiles was a very tactile person, so he loved it when Derek started unthinkingly drawing circles with his index finger on Stiles' arm. Stiles wanted Derek circles everywhere, but that was maybe a bit too sexy to think about at this particular time in their relationship, so Stiles decided to pay more attention to the movie. 

Derek’s arm pulled him closer when it looked like Jyn was doomed, or Cassian, or Jyn and Cassian, which meant he got lots of squeezes of reassurance from Derek. And when Cassian held Jyn on the beach, Stiles’ head had found its way to Derek’s shoulder and Derek stilled and squeezed Stiles' into him and held onto him until the interior of the rebel ship. And finally, Stiles leaned back momentarily to watch Derek's reaction to that scene (which was 'No!,' with an incredulous smile, and then a quiet, 'That is so cool!') before putting his head back on Derek’s shoulder. 

It was comfortable there. 

They sat like that through the credits and kept sitting there when the main title came back up again and started to cycle. Stiles had never been quiet with someone before. He’d never been able to. Heck, he'd never _felt_ so quiet. He was starting to understand why people loved it so much if still and quiet felt like this.

Derek was the one to break the silence. "You haven't said anything for almost two hours. Have you ever done that before?" he asked in genuine amazement.

Stiles sniggered. "Outside of sleep and tests? Probably not. First time for everything."

Stiles could feel Derek looking at the top of his head. Eventually Derek said, "That was a really good movie. Sad, but good."

"Yeah, so sad. But pure in a way? And beautiful. And the ending is so cool."

Derek hummed in agreement.

So he was officially cuddling with Derek, and it was all sorts of awesome. There was also the tiniest voice that was telling him that he could be happy with just this, Derek's arm around him, his head on Derek's shoulder, the universe quiet, forever.

And then his phone vibrated, which was the signal that Scott and Maila were done at the loft and headed home. Which meant that it was probably as good a time as any to head back up to the loft.

"You're cozy," Stiles sighed. "And you smell good. And you make my mind shut up. Cozy and quiet is nice," Stiles sighed.

"You smell incredible. Better than you usually do, and you usually smell pretty good," Derek said, just short of burying his face into Stiles hair.

"Jackson used more styling products on me than I even knew existed. He and Lydia Queer Eyed me."

"Was he Jonathan?" Derek asked.

"And maybe some Karamo? And definitely Tan, even though Lydia shared in that role. Jackson's changed. He's actually nice," Stiles said.

"Ethan is, too. I think we're their project," Derek said and then yawned.

Stiles smiled. "I think that is a sign that we need to get you home," Stiles said, sitting up in resignation.

Derek didn't move. His eyes were soft and sleepy. "I'm fine, Stiles, come back here," he said, pouting just a tiny bit for emphasis.

And who was Stiles to say no to that? So he cuddled up against Derek again and Derek hummed in happy approval. 

They were quiet for a moment. And then Stiles said, "What do I usually smell like?"

He could feel Derek's smile without even looking at him. And then Derek leaned his face in just a tiny bit and breathed in deeply. And decadently. 

It gave Stiles goosebumps.

"It's difficult to put into words," Derek said, sounding contemplative, "but, it smells like you. Nothing else smells like it."

Stiles waited and then Derek said, "It's like the smell of lightning - and petrichor. And fire and ash and earth. And it's - male, yeah, not feminine at all - a little musky and - untamed? And there's sage for wisdom - mom told me that one time, that if they smell of sage, it's wisdom. She smelled like sage, too. But then there's this thing underneath all of that, that's strong and has walked through hell and come out the other side. Maybe a little dark. It's sort of bitter almost. Like cocoa. And coffee. Maybe a little sulfer? And Brut cologne."

"I smell like sulfurous Brut cologne?" Stiles snorted.

Derek smiled. "No, but my dad wore Brute and he smelled warm and masculine and strong."

"You smell like the forest," Stiles blurted. "You always have. Not like pine or moss or any one smell in particular, just the forest, the earth and air."

"Yeah?" Derek asked

"Yeah," Stiles said, not telling Derek about the time he remarked about Derek being drenched in cologne to Scott and Scott looking at him like there was something wrong with him because all Derek smelled like to literally everyone else was soap and leather jacket. And barely, because even true alpha Scott had to almost get right up on Derek to smell him (which turned out to be yet another thing Derek was unconsciously doing to keep himself stifled and invisible). 

Stiles knew what his vial of amorentia would smell like. Forest. And wind and the rustle of the pines. His vial of amorentia would smell like Derek. 

"We need to get back. I don't know if Scott walked Delphina," Stiles said with a sigh.

Derek sat up in resignation and said, "You doubt that Dr. Doolittle walked the dog?" Derek scoffed, while starting to gather snacks.

"You never know. They were going to clean up the kitchen. Jackson found me a solid wait staff," Stiles commented.

"You are an amazing cook. I had no idea that you could cook that well. I don't know that I could even come near to that," Derek said.

"Pshaw, Der. I can totally teach you. It’s not difficult, just maybe time consuming. But not difficult at all. We should start a quarantine cooking challenge," Stiles said, leading Derek out of the theater.

"Yeah? Those Lego aren't going to last forever," Derek said, considering Stiles' idea.

"We'll get quarantine bods together, gain the quarantine 15, and eat delicious foods which I can teach you how to cook," Stiles said.

"Quarantine bods," Derek smiled, giving Stiles' body a bit of a once over. Just like that. Like it was totally okay to do.

And holy fuck, it was! So as Stiles and Derek put the snacks away in the downstairs kitchen, they both blatantly checked each other out. Which was also how the phrase, "Your overall level of sexiness is unfair to the rest of mankind," left Stiles' mouth and Derek turned 19 shades of pink.

And it was during the period that Derek was finally almost not blushing that Stiles extended his hand to Derek's while looking Derek in the eye (because he did not want to miss the mental gymnastics that would happen over that gesture). As anticipated, Derek blushed again (Stiles was having a difficult time fighting the smugness at this point) and then put his hand into Stiles and then stared at the floor, glancing occasionally at Stiles and occasionally at their joined hands. And he continued to stare at the floor for the entire elevator ride, a complicated amalgam of emotions from shy to considering to awestruck to slightly scared playing in his eyes.

When they reached the foyer, Derek reached for the door handle and Stiles grabbed his wrist and said, "Don't open the door right away."

"Why?" Derek asked, finally looking up to face Stiles. 

And this was the moment, wasn't it? If he was going to make a move, now would be the ideal time. And Stiles wanted to kiss Derek, but Derek was suddenly sending off conflicting vibes and Stiles had made a vow that Derek would lead.

"Well, we've got to do the whole dropping you off at your door thing," Stiles said. "You've always got to have the awkward 'at the door' moment," said Stiles, going for ‘sexy yet no pressure’ nonchalant.

"Yeah?" Derek said, smiling and looking down at the floor again and carefully saying, "Stiles, I'm not really used to all of this, holding hands and the other stuff. You're one of the only people that I let touch me. You’re one of the only people that I’ve _ever_ let touch me." He said the last part like it was his greatest secret, like it was difficult for him to say.

"I can stop," Stiles said, withdrawing his hand "I can totally always ask. God, Derek, you've got to know that I would never cross any boundaries with you -"

"I like it when you do," Derek said bluntly, looking Stiles in the eyes again. "I want you to. You don't need to ask. I always know when it's you - because, well, you know why - and I always want you to."

And Derek was now fully facing Stiles and they'd stepped closer to each other.

"Yeah?" breathed Stiles as Derek looked at his lips again and then looked Stiles in the eyes.

Derek nodded.

Stiles - he just couldn't think. Because Derek Hale was beautiful. The most beautiful person to have ever been created. And Derek Hale opened up to him and would rip his soul out for Stiles if he thought that was what it took to help Stiles. And Stiles would do the same in a second. Immediately.

And that's when Stiles realized it, fully and completely and without a doubt. That's when he knew that this is what it feels like - this, here, with Derek - this is what it feels like to love someone. Wholly and completely and without reservation. The opening up and the vulnerability and the trust and the safety, it was love. And having a past with a person, and being best friends with them. And picking out their furniture and them holding you when you cry and then wiping the snot off of your face in the still of the night. This was love.

He was in love with Derek Hale. And he was pretty damn sure that Derek Hale was in love with him.

His lips were so close, and when Stiles looked up, Derek was staring in his eyes. He looked so impassioned and open and _ready_. Like he wanted to move in closer but he just couldn't move those last few inches.

So Stiles did it for him.

And just for a second they both froze, because holy shit, they were kissing. Their lips were touching. Like actually in real life. And then Derek exhaled and his body melted and his lips parted. And Stiles lips parted and Stiles grabbed Derek's face and Derek put his arms around Stiles and then slid one hand up his neck and tangled his fingers in his hair and Stiles moaned low and long. He couldn’t help himself. 

He and Derek were kissing. Derek was kissing him back.

It was happening.

_Finally!_

Derek moved slowly. It wasn't really cautious, it was more like he was going to take his time with this, settle into it, and then enjoy the hell out of it. And holy shit, could Derek Hale kiss. He wasn't hesitant or shy, Derek Hale knew exactly what he wanted and how he wanted it and Stiles just followed along, letting him suck on his lower lip and lick and tease and savor. After an indeterminate amount of time Derek pulled back just far enough to lean his forehead into Stiles' and bring his index finger up to Stiles' lower lip.

"Your mouth, Stiles," he whispered, sounding rough and broken. "This god damned mouth."

And then his lips were back and Stiles pressed in more. He coaxed Derek's mouth open until just the tips of their tongues were touching, enough that he could nibble and suck and now his hands were carding through Derek's hair and he was pushing one down the back of Derek's shirt. And then, completely by accident, he scratched lightly at the nape of Derek's neck and Derek shivered and moaned, loud and wonton.

Stiles would never forget what scraping the nape of Derek's neck did, not for the rest of his life, because almost as soon as it happened his back hit the wall and Derek started to devour Stiles mouth. Stiles had always thought it was ridiculous when he'd read a kiss described as plundering, but that's what Derek was doing, he was plundering his mouth. Stiles had never been kissed like this, like he was a feast and Derek couldn't get enough. He'd certainly never been kissed so greedily. Or so hard and aggressively that all he could really do was hold on and fall into it and let it play out. 

It was absolutely incredible.

He took a second to marvel over the fact that this was a man that he was kissing. Derek had a beard and his fingers were rough and more aggressive. He was hard and firm and taller than Stiles. It was different than kissing Lydia, but that didn’t make it any less awesome. In fact, it was possibly more awesome because as Stiles said before, it was incredible. Absolutely, positively the most incredible kiss, maybe ever.

And it was Derek.

He wanted to climb Derek. It made no rational sense, but whatever. Stiles rarely made sense. He was kissing his hot werewolf best friend high school crush that he was hopelessly in love with and he wanted to climb him, because he wanted to absorb him, like that [ video of lymphocytes ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RPIzIznmAO0) he'd watched in Life Sciences, so he threw one leg over Derek's hip and the other around his lower leg and Derek was supporting all of his weight with his torso like it was nothing and it was hot as hell. Better than he had imagined. Completely exceeded expectations.

And then Derek pressed himself even more closely into Stiles and Stiles squirmed against Derek and - well, hello there, new best friend. It seemed that Little Derek was into the kissing, too, because there he was, in all of his large, hard glory, pressing into Stiles' pelvis. Stiles shifted and squirmed and did what he could to let Little Derek meet Little Stiles because, well, frotting with Derek pressed up against a wall might have been one of Stiles' more frequent wank bank scenarios once upon a teenage time.

But then Stiles realized that Derek was no longer moving. He hadn't backed away, but the kissing had stopped and Derek's forehead was buried in Stiles shoulder and he was panting.

"Did I -" Stiles started while at the same time Derek laughed a bit maniacally and answered with, "No, no, you didn't do anything wrong."

"You finished my sentence," Stiles said, mostly because his mind was a bit fried. Hot fucking damn, that needed to happen all the time and forever. He was still wrapped around Derek and the minute Derek moved he was going to fall on his ass, but he really didn't care. He cared about nothing except Derek Hale.

"I've never done this - with a man," Derek finally said into Stiles' shoulder, still panting.

Stiles huffed a laugh and replied, "Well, you're in luck, because neither have I."

Derek breathed for a few moments and then looked up at Stiles and said, "Stiles, I just - with everyone else I've been with it's always been so - rushed. And I always thought - well, if I ever - if this ever happened - that I wanted to do it right - and to savor it."

And damn, how could Stiles even begin to argue with wanting to be savored?

He put his feet back on the ground and grabbed Derek's face. He looked Derek in the eyes and said, "I will say it as many times as you need to hear it but we will never do anything that you don't want to do. We go as slow or as fast as you want. You wanna kiss and that's it? That's what we do. Hell, we could go back to not kissing if that's what you want."

"I don't want that," Derek said, and there was just a bit of a feral edge to it, and Stiles just couldn't anymore.

"You're so fucking beautiful," Stiles said. It was one of those moments when Stiles' mouth worked before his brain did. Which didn't usually work out well, but this time he was happy because Derek blushed. "You are," Stiles said.

Derek was loosening his grip on Stiles just a little when he whispered, "No one's ever called me beautiful before," into Stiles' temple, kissing it.

"Well, that's a crime, really," Stiles replied, sighing a bit into Derek, "because you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen."

"That's stupid," Derek mumbled.

"It is not!" Stiles insisted, making Derek look at him. "Derek, I had a full blown sexuality crisis the first time that I saw you. While you were standing there hating me and my Axe I was trying to deal with the fact that I wanted you to pin me against a tree and destroy me. Just ravage the fucking hell out of me. I mean, you were terrifying, sure, but so is Lydia, and terrifying never really ever stopped me from doing anything,"

Derek snickered. He had those little crinkles at the corner of one of his eyes that he got when he really smiled. 

Stiles continued, "So, yeah, terrifying, I'm there. Try to stop me. But also, you were a guy, and I'd never really felt like that - well, not that viscerally at least - about a guy. Shit, Derek, I can still see you walking out of those trees, looking so angry and righteous and so god damned beautiful in your leather jacket, and - I was gone Derek. So fucking gone on you and I didn’t even know who you were! We already know that my survival instinct wasn't the best back then and I knew you hated me, anyone could have clearly seen that, but I didn't care. Because the most beautiful person that I had ever seen was standing right there in front of me."

"Really?" Derek asked, looking dumbfounded at Stiles' revelation. Just as dumbfounded as Stiles had been that Derek had noticed him before he'd noticed Scott that first meeting.

"Derek, after you showed up at the edge of the lacrosse field - after we knew Peter had bit Scott and you hadn't and all of the sudden you were this mystery - I seriously had a full on sexuality breakdown. Scott didn't trust you and thought he could do it all by himself and he didn't want to talk about you but he figured it out anyway, that I had a thing for you. That's what he called it, 'the thing you have for Derek.' Always with air quotes. And he hated it but he's my bro so he was supportive. I went through this whole thing - Jackson named it the Great Bi Awakening. The whole school knew I was hot for some scary old dude that drove a car with terrible fuel efficiency."

"I'm not that much older than you, Stiles," Derek protested, ignoring the comment about the Camaro, while looking at Stiles in self-conscious amusement.

"Yeah, but this was during the whole, 'You should trust Derek, Scott, he can help you,' 'Like hell I'm gonna trust Derek, he's a werewolf!' thing and to Scott you were the devil who was going around town corrupting young minors. Which you were actually doing, so he may have had a point." Stiles said, remembering that day.

He continued, "And the worst part was that I knew that you knew, about how I wanted you, and how nervous and ridiculous and stupid it made me with you. And I just couldn't stop. I was hopeless."

Derek was smiling fondly. "You were, really, and it's probably a good thing that I was so guarded. I found you - perplexing. I couldn't figure out what it was that you wanted. And why you always ended up in exactly the place you shouldn't be."

"Sheer talent. And terrible coincidence. Oh, and a police scanner," said Stiles, smiling back at Derek. He had backed up just enough so that he and Stiles weren't touching anymore but close enough for it to mean something. Close enough that it was intimate.

"Let's go in," he said, nodding at the door. He hadn’t broken eye contact with Stiles, however, and was still surreptitiously watching Stiles’ mouth.

"Okay, but before we do, does the kissing stop now? What's the plan when we get inside? Because I'm cool with kissing, any time, day or night, 24/7. Or not. You tell me," Stiles asked.

"I'm good with kissing, Stiles," Derek said, smiling softly. "And as for the rest of it, things will happen when they happen. We'll figure it out. And I trust you. I've always trusted you."

"Except when you hated me and I was immediately obsessed with you," Stiles clarified, before running his fingers softly over Derek’s stubble. Because he could do that now.

"Except then," Derek agreed, leaning into Stiles' fingers.

"Okay, I am very cool with that. But just so you’re aware, I have very few limits - “

“No,” scoffed Derek sarcastically.

“You scoff, but these things are important. And the point of me saying that is to tell you that all you have to do is tell me to stop if I cross one of yours, or if you’re feeling uncomfortable, or anything.”

“Stiles, you aren’t going to break me,” Derek protested, but Stiles was pretty damn sure that he had the ability to completely destroy Derek. He just never wanted to. He wanted to build Derek up. And Derek seemed to get that, because he didn’t protest that much and he was giving Stiles an ‘I know what you’re capable of and I still trust you completely’ look.

Stiles smiled warmly and said, “Okay, let’s go in. But first, I’ve got to know: was it a good date? Did you have a good time? Are we doing it again? I mean I would assume so, what with -”

Derek cut Stiles off with another bone melting kiss. One where he held Stiles’ face and took his time and ended by looking Stiles in the eyes, smiling, and answering "Yeah," he said, "it was a really good date. We will definitely be doing it again."

And then he started kissing Stiles again, like he had totally forgotten that they were going in. Which was totally okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an [ active Sterek blog](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fyeahsterek72); updates are published there. Come join me!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a terrible few weeks we are having in America right now, huh? For those reading in the future, the Black Live Matter protests are currently in progress. My hope is that there will finally be positive change and that George Floyd really will change the world. Also, the president tear gassed peaceful protesters in a clear violation of the Constitution and the Geneva Convention. So it's been a week. PLEASE vote. That's all of the politicizing that I'm going to do.
> 
> More kissing and fluff, and pets!
> 
> I've made a soundtrack, because this is Teen Wolf on MTv, and there should be a new song every five minutes, or at least each chapter. It is a work in progress until the story is completed, but there will be a link to the song and a link to the whole song list
> 
> [Young the Giant - Silvertongue](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_lfF6eIEhhI)
> 
> [Great Bi Awakening Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLoYDiCGS25o3pdlzCcwlwhjDbWDnhs2Bh)
> 
> Oh! I wanted to mention that I've been listening to [THIS Sterek Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6VVA9KBfc0CJ4MNFCx8eyw?si=VQRZgjp6RLCP87_Vi2g-8A), and it's really, really, really good. And it's days long. I know that it was created by another Sterek writer but I don't know that writer's AO3 handle. Anyhow, if this is your playlist please let me know. I'd like to give you the credit!

So they were taking it slow. But, awesomely, slow meant soul-shaking make out sessions whenever, all day long.

Stiles was the first to pounce (as if that was a surprise), and he waited the entire time that it took for Derek to open and then close the loft door after their first date (which took an incredible amount of self control on his part. Olympic levels). 

During that time Stiles had decided that he wanted to back Derek into the door and show Derek that you didn't need super strength to take control of a kiss. Also, he wanted Derek's tongue in his mouth, immediately if possible.

Stiles really had taken mental notes about Derek being affected by Dark Stiles - if Derek Hale liked them bad, he could do bad, and he could do it very, very well. 

He looked Derek levelly in the eyes and threw in just a hint of Dark. Just a teensy tiny bit, because he didn't want to come on too strong. He let his demeanor follow suit, let his body posture become a bit more predatory, and suddenly there he was. 

Derek Hale wasn't going to know what hit him.

He watched in fascination as Derek's pupils went from pinpoint to blown. Smirked as he watched Derek yield and open up. Licked his lips absently as he watched Derek's lips part. 

Dark Stiles for the win, then.

Derek wasn't the only one with a lip fixation. Stiles was obsessed with Derek's mouth. One of the best things about Derek's boring pack meetings in high school was that when Derek talked, Stiles had an excuse to stare at Derek's lips and wonder what it would feel like to touch them. Or if werewolves got chapped lips and, if so, what flavor of Chap Stick Derek used. And if they didn't get chapped lips, how soft they would feel against his. 

Stiles also knew that Derek had a bit of an obsession with Stiles' fingers. If he'd had any doubt about that fact it had ended during dinner, with that little whimper that Derek had made. Derek was always looking at Stiles' fingers, even as far back as high school. Back then it was probably because Stiles was always tapping or twirling something or fidgeting and honestly, his tapping annoyed everyone. Now he still tapped and twirled and touched everything, but Derek looked at Stiles' fingers like he wanted to devour them, not snap them in two. Like he wanted Stiles to tap and twirl and touch all over him.

Stiles moved in slowly and Derek backed up slowly. He let out a little gasp when his back hit the door. Stiles smirked and Derek swallowed visibly. 

"Too much?" Stiles checked, because Derek was breathing deeply and carefully, which was something he did when he was overwhelmed. And when he was trying to control himself.

Derek shook his head no slowly and attentively. His nostrils flared. 

Stiles brought his hand back up to Derek's cheek and then he dragged his thumb over Derek's bottom lip pulling it slightly down. Derek sagged against the door. 

Stiles stepped in even closer and whispered, "What is it about my fingers?" against Derek's ear.

Derek looked surprised for a moment and then whispered, "I don't - sometimes, all I can think about are your fingers - writing or texting or typing."

"Good to know," Stiles purred, cupping Derek's face with one hand and dragging his thumb from Derek's bottom lips back to his cheekbone.

Derek pushed his cheek into Stiles palm. He was so touch starved. Stiles couldn't wait until he could touch him everywhere, maybe even in places he'd never been touched before.

And then Stiles kissed Derek and Derek melted again. And Stiles tried his hardest to plunder Derek's mouth just as thoroughly as Derek had plundered his.

Stiles' hands really do have a life of their own. One had looped under Derek's arm and slowly ran down Derek's beautiful back, stopping a second where the triskele was before continuing it's leisurely descent (which veered off course for a moment so that Stiles could run his hand momentarily over Derek's side, feeling the curve of Derek' ribs the flex of his obliques), until it was cupping Derek's glorious ass. Which was strong and firm with just enough flesh to grab on to. Praise the heavens for Derek's tight jeans.

No matter what Derek did, Stiles kept things slow. Anytime Derek seemed to be trying to lead things, Stiles moved a slightly different direction (literally and metaphorically) so that Derek would have to follow him and let him lead. Which didn't last long, but Derek seemed to enjoy when it did, if the moans and gasps that he was making were any indication of his approval. 

And then Derek started slowly writhing against Stiles. Which, come on, universe. Stiles had loads of self control as far as respecting the boundaries of others was concerned, but a writhing Derek Hale was literally the stuff of his wet dreams. So pulling away was most likely the best course of action, because Derek wanted slow, and if Stiles didn't pull away, grinding probably was going to happen.

Thank god for pets, because Delphina chose that moment to nudge Derek with her nose and whine.

Stiles stopped kissing Derek and mumbled, "Dr. Doolittle failed us," into Derek's lips.

"I'll take them, you can stay here," Derek panted as Stiles started placing open mouthed kisses along his jaw. 

"I'll go with you," he murmured, not really wanting to stop (even though it was by far the best course of action) because he'd never kissed stubble and Derek's jaw needed to be nibbled.

"No, you stay," Derek whimpered as Stiles proceeded to nibble said jawline back to Derek's ear. "You stay here and I'll walk them and - Jesus, Stiles," Derek trailed off, his head falling back and hitting the door, as Stiles lightly sucked and licked at the skin just under his ear.

Stiles wasn't actually opposed to staying behind. He was so horny that a little alone time out of Derek's auditory and olfactory zones would not be unwelcome. "If you're sure," he mumbled as he pecked his way under Derek's jaw.

"Yeah, um, I need - air. Yeah - cold air," Derek said, not making any attempt to move, but sounding just this side of desperate. "Stiles," he whimpered, "I need - Delphi needs a walk."

Stiles pulled away reluctantly, but not before placing a final kiss softly and slowly on the corner of Derek's mouth. 

"I love your mouth," he sighed, after which he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and stepped back.

Stiles should have kept his eyes closed because when he opened them Derek was right there, head still thrown back, staring blankly at the ceiling, lips swollen and red, panting, looking positively wrecked. Stiles had never experienced a wrecked Derek and he doubted that there was any way Derek could get any sexier. 

He turned resolutely and walked into the center of the living room and said, "You're gonna have to leave because if I turn around with you looking like you look right now I'm afraid I'm going to climb you. Literally. So, um, yeah, I'm going upstairs and - yeah."

"Yeah," Derek agreed breathily, and Stiles heard him grabbing Delphina's leash and clipping her in.

"Derek," Stiles said, and he heard Derek stop moving, "I had a really good time."

"I had a good time, too. It was really good, Stiles," Derek said earnestly. "I'll see you tomorrow." 

And then he left with Delphina and Harry. 

Stiles ran up the stairs two at a time, ran to his room, almost tripping twice on the way there, shut his door, fell back against it, waited to hear the elevator moving, and counted as slowly as he could to 120 because Derek had waited approximately two minutes when he'd said Peter was out of ear shot.

He couldn't get his pants open fast enough, damn belt that Jackson made him wear. And once he did, he didn't last long - it was actually a little embarrassing how quickly he came. He was happy that Derek had been out of ear shot, because he'd made this embarrassing gaspy choking noise - again, it was fast and a little intense. 

When he went into the restroom to wash the evidence of his activities away, he glanced in the mirror and couldn't help but grin goofily at what he saw. He looked as disheveled and wrecked as Derek had been.

He looked hot. 

He'd never thought that about himself but he could definitely say that in this moment he looked pretty smokin' hot.

He bet that Derek and he looked damn sexy making out. Derek was just the hottest person, maybe ever, in all of history. Since the beginning of time. The way he'd looked, collapsed against the door - and Stiles had done that. He'd been the one to make that happen.

And where had that come from, huh? Because - Stiles had experience, sure, but he'd never done anything like _that_ and b - anyone that can make Derek Hale look like that was a damn sexy beast.

Huh. Maybe Scott was right. 

There was cum on his cashmere sweater. Never in a million years did he think he'd have to google "How to get cum out of cashmere," but this was a night of firsts. Turns out, there's a very thorough [ Good Housekeeping ](https://www.goodhousekeeping.com/uk/house-and-home/household-advice/a656973/remove-semen-stains/) article on the topic. Way to be progressive, Good Housekeeping!

As he tended to his sweater, he thought about the fact that he'd made out with a guy, which was also a pretty big milestone. 

No, that wasn't quite right. He hadn't made out with a guy, he'd made out with a _man_. A tall, hard, strong, muscular man, which was exponentially hotter than making out with just a guy.

He'd made out with Derek, who was every bit a man, and it had been fucking amazing. 

He was dating Derek. He was quite possibly **_In A Relationship_ ** with Derek Hale. Stiles and Derek were sittin' in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.

Thank you, life.

He hadn't even changed his Facebook status to single yet. More than likely Lydia had, as Lydia knew all of his passwords and believed that it was incredibly important to keep your social profiles up to date. For networking and advancement purposes. Her Linked In profile was unparalleled. All Slytherclaws should have religious icons of her over their mantles.

Stiles was brought out of his reverie by the chirp of a cat watching him from the closet.

"Well if it isn't Harry," Stiles said to the cat, approaching him slowly. While he was in the closet, he got undressed (the cashmere was soaking) and put on some PJs. Harry watched everything Stiles did as if he were trying to figure out exactly what Stiles was up to. 

After Stiles changed his clothes he went over to his bed and sat crosslegged on it. "You can come up," he said to the cat, patting the bed while he grabbed his phone.

There was a message from Scott that said, " **_Call me tomorrow._ ** 🐺" and one from Erica that said " **_Get it hot stuff._ **" Other than that, though, it seemed the pack was keeping its distance.

Stiles heard chirping again and watched as Harry jumped cautiously onto Stiles’ bed. He smiled and held out his hand. He'd never been graced with Harry's individual presence before. Harry usually sat off to the side of the room, close to Delphina, glaring disdainfully at Derek. Stiles had tried to explain to him that werewolves weren't like actual wolves and had no interest in eating cats, but Harry would have none of it. 

"Hey there," he said, as Harry looked at his hand as if he were bored. "I thought you left with your lady. We all need our alone time, though, don't we?"

Harry let out a long meow. In contrast to his chirps, which were sweet and high and made Stiles want to pick Harry up and kiss him relentlessly (although he hadn't been brave enough to attempt that), Harry meowed like he’d smoked three packs of Marlboros a day for 20 years. Like he had the knowledge of a thousand alley cats and it was heavy stuff.

“Yeah, we need alone time for sure. So the date was amazing and Derek was wonderful. Didn’t try to eat me at all because, Harry, werewolves don't eat cats or people. Although between you and me, I wouldn’t have stopped him if he'd tried.”

Harry had crept a little closer to Stiles and Stiles slowly and carefully ran his hand over Harry’s head. Harry looked like he was considering whether he should let that happen again and then sat down in front of Stiles. And bumped his head into Stiles hand.

“I’m gonna take that as a win, little man,” he said, scratching between Harry’s ears as Harry leaned in a little more. “So tell me, how did you and Delphina meet? Was it love at first sight? The first time I saw Derek I wanted him to nail me to a tree. With his penis. Which I just found out is quite large. At least compared to other penises that I’ve felt, which, you know, is only mine and his. Anyway, he was terrifying that night. Beautiful, but terrifying. You’ll just have to believe me that he’s so much nicer now.”

As he ran his hand further down Harry’s neck, between his shoulder blades, something felt - different. It wasn’t Harry’s fur or body or anything physical, it was more a feeling, like the energy there was wrong - in a knot - and not flowing correctly. 

So this was actually a first for Stiles, but this was what Deaton had tried to describe to him when he talked about chakras and reiki - which had sounded like absolute nonsense at the time, but you’d think he’d have learned his lesson by now that even complete nonsense was often times backed up in reality. After all, he ran with werewolves, so pretty much anything was possible.

Stiles focused on the energy and tried to imagine what it would feel like if it were flowing freely, just as Deaton had told him to do, and it was almost like he could see the energy, in a swirling but stagnant grey, blocked and hindered by - something. A very unpleasant something that shouldn't be there, but had lodged itself in and wasn't going anywhere. 

Stiles got to work. It was almost like clearing rocks from a stream, removing all of the eddies and swirls until the water flowed freely. Taking the bad energy and making it go somewhere else with all of the other energy rock blockages, wherever they were.

He’d never felt anything like it, nor had he felt a chakra so strongly. And this one was seriously out of joint. He continued to concentrate, muttering bits of information that Deaton had made him memorize about human chakras. He didn’t know cat chakras, but they were probably similar and if so, Harry’s heart chakra, or maybe his brachial chakra, was a clusterfuck. No wonder he was so pissy. The brachial chakra tied everything together, and if it was screwed up, everything else was screwed up, too.

“What happened to you,” he wondered aloud. He supposed just being a cat on the streets would be enough to make any cat a fighter, they’d have to be to survive. Not knowing where his next meal would come from, looking out for predators, always being on edge. The life of an alley cat wasn’t an easy one.

“No wonder you’re in love with her. She’s warm and furry and good with her tongue. That’s a definite plus in a partner. Don’t try to deny it; I’ve seen her giving you a bath. She’s a caretaker for sure. And despite her size compared to yours, she’s pretty cute,” Stiles yammered. Honestly, he really didn’t know what he was saying, he was just doing it because Harry seemed to like it when Stiles talked to him, or at least it kept his attention.

Also, he’d started purring. It was quiet and tentative, but it was actually purring. And his eyes were closed.

He’d hit something, some sort of blockage that didn’t want to budge. Something wedged deep down in. It was black and angry in contrast to the chakra, which was becoming more and more silver the longer Stiles concentrated.

Stiles didn’t know why he knew that Harry’s chakra had started out dingy grey but was now a faint, glowing silver or why the blockage was black. He didn’t even know what he was doing, just that he was doing it and Harry seemed to be melting into him more and more the longer he focused.

His eyes were closed. It helped him concentrate. Had they been open, he would have seen the faintest silver glow between his hand and Harry’s body. 

He dug around the blockage, which was deep and trying to root itself in other chakras - Harry’s heart and solar plexus. He carefully dislodged and dug and pulled and then, as if a dam had opened, Harry’s energy flowed unimpeded and Harry collapsed into a boneless, purring heap onto Stiles’ bed.

Stiles opened his eyes and stared at Harry. If he hadn’t seen Harry's chest moving, he would have thought he was dead, he was so completely gone to the world. Every few minutes, he’d take a big, cleansing breath, purring even more loudly, like his body was finally getting air that it hadn’t had before. And he was purring so loudly that Stiles was pretty sure his bed was shaking.

“Huh,” Stiles said, still staring at the cat.

The elevator sounded and Harry didn’t move. The loft door opened and Harry didn’t flinch. Either Stiles had cured or killed Harry, because Harry was always on alert. This was a different cat.

“Stiles,” he heard Derek call, “is Harry here? Have you seen him? He didn’t like the elevator and darted.”

“He’s on my bed. I think I broke him,” Stiles said, listening as Derek and Delphina walked up the steps and continued until he was outside of Stiles’ door.

“What happened?” Derek asked, and he could hear Delphina sniffing and pushing into Stiles’ door.

“I fixed his chakras. Or at least one of them. Well, at least that's what I think I did; it's all sort of inexplicable. But I did something, and then he started purring. And then he turned into goo. Come look,” Stiles said.

Derek hesitated and Stiles said, “I swear I’m not going to attack you, Derek. I’m kind of in shock over this cat right now.”

Derek opened the door and Delphina trotted in, sniffing Harry. And then she looked at Stiles and Stiles knew that she was happy. And satisfied. Nothing about her expression had changed, she always looked depressed, even though Stiles knew she was content. Stiles didn’t know how he knew what Delphi was feeling, he just did. And it wasn't anthropomorphism, either. He knew what the dog was feeling.

“Derek,” he exclaimed, a brilliant thought arising, “Scott isn’t Dr. Doolittle, I am! I know what Delphina is thinking. I know what they’re saying to each other. And I don’t know what I did to this cat, but he’s flowing now, and it's bright silver, and I don't even know what that means, but it’s kind of awesome. I may have fixed the cat. He’s been through some shit, Derek. He had a black rock lodged in his soul.”

Derek was looking at Stiles in puzzled wonder. “Okay,” he said, tentatively.

“Look, I know none of it makes sense. It makes no sense to me, but I fixed this cat. He can breathe for the first time, ever. Not literally, metaphorically. He’s so tired; I mean, no wonder he was cranky.” He looked at Derek in wonder. “I fixed the cat.”

Derek looked back at Stiles in even more wonder. “I guess you did,” he said. 

Delphina agreed.

“Derek, let’s go to the Preserve tomorrow. I’ve got to keep this going. I wonder if I can talk to birds. Or snakes! That would be so metal, to have an army of snakes.”

Derek snorted. “Try not to get too far ahead of yourself there, Salazar,” he said.

“It would be metal, though. _Enemies of the heir beware!_ ” Stiles replied, grinning. 

“You’ve already got an army of wolves pretty much at your command. What do you need snakes for?” Derek said, raising his eyebrows in that smirky Derek way.

And just like that, Stiles was turned on again.

“You’ve got to get out. Right now. Because I’ve changed my mind and I just may attack you. You are too hot for your own good,” Stiles said. 

Derek looked taken aback and then surprised and then shy all in the manner of a second. And then he smiled self-consciously, looked at the floor, and said, “I really did have a good time and we’ll go to the Preserve tomorrow. 'Night.”

And then he was gone, closing the door until it was slightly cracked open.

"'Night, Derek," Stiles said, knowing Derek would hear him.

Delphina stayed, jumping up onto Stiles’ bed and curling around Harry. And because she was an enormous dog, she took up most of the bed, leaving little room for Stiles.

He laid down so that he was face to face with her and said, “Now, I know that you want to be with Harry, but this is my bed, and you’re going to have to give me some room.”

Delphina looked at him, yawned, licked Harry, and quite unexpectedly, she repositioned herself so that Stiles had enough room to sleep.

Stiles stared slackjawed at Delphina. “Did you just understand what I said to you?” he wondered.

He didn’t know how, but he knew that she did. Also, he was bombarded with the thought that Harry wasn’t Delphina’s husband, but her son, and that she wanted Stiles to understand that. And that she was happy that her son was sleeping, because he really never slept soundly.

So, here’s the thing: Stiles had never had a pet. His dad wasn’t home enough to take care of a dog and was allergic to cats. Scott hadn’t had pets, either, because up until he was bitten, he was allergic to everything. So up until Delphina and Harry had come into his life, his interactions with pets had been brief. But he was relatively certain that pets didn’t have the ability to psychically bombard you with thoughts. Which meant - what? That he truly was a pet whisperer? That he really could talk to animals? That he was a Disney Princess?

“Derek, I’m pretty sure you can hear me with your super hearing; the dog moved when I told her to and also Harry is Delphina’s son, not her husband. And I’m pretty sure that she actually told me that somehow. And honestly, I’m freaking out a little about it.”

Derek texted Stiles’ phone to answer him. **_“Ur telling me that you really can talk to animals”_ **

“Well, maybe not talk, but definitely communicate. You know how I don’t know how but I just can do things? Well, Delphina just told me psychically that Harry is her son. Which is really sweet. Delphina is an adoptive parent.”

Delphina licked Stiles as confirmation. Her licks were very wet and slobbery, but Stiles was cool with that. Or maybe he was too shocked with his latest revelation to care.

 **_“And you’re sure you’re not just projecting?”_ ** Derek asked.

“No, Derek, this isn’t projecting. It’s like I see in my mind what she wants me to know. I don’t know, maybe I am. I don’t understand anything that I do - it makes it difficult to know what’s real and what isn’t. I did help Harry, though.”

 **_“Tomorrow, Preserve and call Deaton.”_ **Derek texted.

“Preserve and Deaton. Right. Okay. I shouldn’t freak out over being psychically linked with Delphina because I could be projecting. Right. I can do that.” Stiles said to himself.

 **_“Random fact:_ ** [ **_Napoleon was attacked_ ** ](https://www.mentalfloss.com/article/51364/time-napoleon-was-attacked-rabbits#:~:text=History%20tells%20us%20that%20Napoleon's,a%20relentless%20horde%20of%20rabbits.&text=When%20Napoleon%20started%20to%20prowl,The%20hunt%20was%20on.) **_by thousands of rabbits at a party. He had to hide in his carriage. Look it up.”_ ** Derek texted.

Stiles snorted. “Thanks, Derek, for that amazing random fact. I will, in fact, be looking that up,” he said.

 **_“Try to get some sleep,”_ **Derek texted.

Stiles smiled. He was dating Derek Hale. His life was _fantastic_.

“Night, Der,” Stiles answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've surpassed 250 kudos, which is amazing! Thanks everyone.
> 
> I have an [ active Sterek blog](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fyeahsterek72); updates are published there. Come join me!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, in my head cannon, Beacon Hills is almost on the eastern California/Oregon border. 
> 
> There are also a few more issues with a list not formatting correctly. I've given up on it.
> 
> Also, and finally, there are lemons. Juicy, juicy lemons. Clothed lemons, but lemons nonetheless. And declarations are made. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> The next few chapters are already written but I'm going to delay putting them out so I can write a few more and clean them up. See y'all soon.
> 
> I've made a soundtrack, because this is Teen Wolf on MTv, and there should be a new song every five minutes, or at least each chapter. It is a work in progress until the story is completed, but there will be a link to the song and a link to the whole song list
> 
> [Hush Kids - Love is a Made Up Word](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rCVYEb4lErk)
> 
> [Kodaline - All I Want](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n6BwAWiHcSg)
> 
> [Great Bi Awakening Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLoYDiCGS25o3pdlzCcwlwhjDbWDnhs2Bh)
> 
> Oh! And thanks for the kudos! Over 300! I'm a bit in shock over it, but thanks! Love all of you.

The following day they took a trip to the Preserve. But before that, they made out in front of the open refrigerator, and then they made out in front of the closed refrigerator (because Derek was worried about energy conservation - Stiles couldn't have cared less, because Derek had been sucking on Stiles' tongue, and Stiles wanted more of that action), and then they both were hungry so they stopped to eat breakfast (omelettes because Derek said that he always burnt them, so Stiles gave Derek his first cooking lesson), and then they made out in front of the sink until Derek told Stiles to go get dressed because if one of them didn't go away they'd just make out all day. In Stiles' opinion, making out all day actually sounded like the better plan, but Derek was a task master, so they went to the Preserve.

They'd driven out to the Preserve in Roscoe, who was actually functioning pretty well these days. Stiles had put a little money into her (and yes, Roscoe was a her, always had been a her, but his mom had thought the name Roscoe fit her, so Roscoe it was) and it was pretty amazing what a qualified mechanic could do these days.

The mechanic - a scary guy with a glass eyeball - had also told him that if Stiles ever used duct tape on Roscoe again, he'd rip Stiles' eyeballs out, and he wasn't joking, so Stiles had learned to take care of old Roscoe. 

The Camaro had been ruled impractical for this particular outing (by Derek), so Roscoe it was. Delphina had come along, but Harry had been sleeping off and on since Stiles had unblocked his energy dam, and when they'd called him to leave he just raised his head a little from the chair he was occupying, yawned, and went back to sleep.

Delphina was okay with leaving him behind. She liked Derek's loft. It was warm and safe. And Derek and Stiles were nice. And she liked having someone who could listen to her.

Yes, the images (or whatever they were) kept coming. And it was all a bit - weird. It wasn't bad, really, because Stiles loved Delphina, had done almost immediately. But one shouldn't be able to communicate with an animal the way they were communicating. It was like he could read her thoughts. Like he was Professor X. Which was kinda cool, but also - unsettling. 

Delphina was polite, she never interrupted and she was careful to not startle Stiles, because she knew that he could get jumpy. And the last thing any dog wants to do is startle their loved ones. 

It didn't take away from the fact that he could communicate with a dog.

Derek had led him into the Preserve and then down side roads that Stiles had rarely traveled. He finally directed him down an overgrown, gravel path. In a little less than a mile (a very bumpy mile), it opened to a small, weedy clearing with an old, weather beaten picnic table and a rusted fire ring.

"We used to camp here in the summer. When I was a kid. I haven't been here in - well, it's been a while," Derek said and then stopped a moment, lost in a thought. He blinked back to reality, pointed and said, "There's a path ahead. There's always a lot of wildlife if you keep your eyes and ears open."

Derek looked a little overwhelmed. Not like he wanted to leave; he actually seemed cautiously excited about being here, but being here was still obviously overwhelming.

Stiles held out his hand to Derek and Derek took it and held it tightly. He stood still for a moment, looked around the clearing, surveying it and then tipped his head back, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply. A tiny, tentative smile appeared in Derek's lips.

"Smells the same," he said, squeezing Stiles' hand just a little harder.

He led Stiles to a path that was well traveled but obviously disused.

"Stay beside me," Derek said. "There's poison oak out here. I can clear any if we come across it."

The air was wet and loamy. The trees were thick and birdsong filled the air. Delphina was on the alert, delighted by her walk but also always looking - noticing everything. It was her job. She was a sight hound and she had always taken her job seriously. She loved doing it, too. Because she was a dog.

Derek pointed into a tree. "[ Pileated woodpecker ](https://fyeahsterek72.tumblr.com/post/622364194995601408/pileated-woodpecker-absolute-units-males-can) ," he said quietly of the enormous, red capped bird busy hollowing out a tree. He then tipped his head, smiled and said, "Hear that melody?" of a bird call. "That's a [ warbler ](https://fyeahsterek72.tumblr.com/post/622364696058740736/hooded-warbler-in-my-mind-beacon-hills-in). My mom thought it was important that we knew who we shared the forest with."

Derek was still gripping Stiles' hand, but his face showed deep contentment. 

Derek stopped walking and gestured for Stiles' to stay still. Delphina stopped, too, and stared off to the right.

Elk. [ A bull and his harem ](https://fyeahsterek72.tumblr.com/post/622365608999272448/bull-and-his-cows-among-the-ferns), well over 10 in total, all staring in their direction. The bull paced, scraped at the ground, and snorted in agitation as he protected his cows.

Derek looked at Stiles and then raised his eyebrows and nodded his head toward the elk.

Stiles smiled at Derek. He nodded back and put his available hand on Delphina's back, telling her by touch to stay still. She looked at Stiles and let him know that she wanted one of those elk but that she would do as he said.

"Good girl," he said softly, and Delphina wagged her tail.

Stiles closed his eyes and felt the still breeze on his skin. He felt the soles of his feet where they stood on the ground, took a cleansing breath, filling his nostrils with the loamy, wet air, and then he started to Ground.

He'd been doing it for about 6 months now, the Grounding, practicing several times a week, whenever the opportunity arose. He liked to do it outside, so he had to be alone. On a busy campus in a busy city those chances were hard to find, but they did come. He tried not to waste them. 

At first when he would Ground he would have to mentally run through the steps that he and Deaton had come up with :

  1. Stance - Feel your feet on the ground. Feel your soles and legs and pelvis as they support you. Feel where your body is in space. Be steady and solid.
  2. Tall - Back straight. Feel the flow of energy up the spinal cord, let it fill the body, all the way through every limb and cell, to the tips of every hair on your body. Do not take more than you need. You will know when you have enough.
  3. Anchor - Establish your anchor. It is your way back. The practice can be seductive and it is easy to let it overtake you. Your anchor must be constant, strong, and solid. Your anchor must be able to pull you home.



(Yes, Derek was his anchor. It had taken Stiles a while to admit it to himself, because when he'd realized that it was Derek he had been deep in his relationship with Lydia. He'd always assumed that it was Lydia, because it had been Alison with Scott and Erica's was Boyd and vice versa. He’d also considered that maybe his anchor was his dad, because early on, it had been. But Stiles’ anchor wasn't his dad anymore and it wasn’t Lydia. Because ever since the night he'd met Derek, he'd been constantly circling back toward him (and Derek to him), until he couldn't deny the fact that Derek and he were intertwined, and that intertwining included Derek being his anchor.).

  1. Flow - Let the energy flow through and out always directing it toward something. Let it be used to please the earth, it's creator. Always remember, the energy does not belong to you, it belongs to the earth.
  2. Focus - Focus is intentional. Focus on that which you wish to effect. Focus on it both macro and microscopically. Try to feel the energy of that which you are affecting and then let the energy flow out and coalesce with the target, slowly and peacefully. 
  3. Gratitude - Thank the earth for lending you its power. Heal it if necessary. Direct the remaining energy that you've taken to heal, bless, and thank.
  4. Revitalize - water, water, water and healthy snacks. Take care of yourself, Stiles.



The steps were all pretty automatic now up until the point that he had to focus his intentions. Usually he let out the energy as a breeze; he liked to make the leaves rustle and he couldn't do anything unusual in the middle of campus. Occasionally, when he was sure no one was around, he'd whip up a whirlwind or levitate all the rocks or leaves off the ground or something along those lines. He'd never tried to talk to a herd of elk.

He decided to focus on the trees. He figured the elk probably trusted them more than they trusted a human, a werewolf, and a wolfhound. After all, the trees were a refuge for the elk and when times got really rough, the trees fed the elk. 

He felt the energy thrum through him and focused on the trees, their leaves and cork and roots and vasculature. He felt the trees preening and felt the wind rustle around him.

He told the trees that the elk were safe. That everything here was safe because this was Hale land, and they were respected here. The trees understood and quivered with joy because this was as it should be. And the elk resumed their foraging, the bull huffing and nodding his head slightly.

"Did that elk just nod at you?" Derek asked incredulously.

"I told the trees that everything, all the plants and animals, were safe on Hale land," Stiles said.

"The trees shook, Stiles," Derek said

"They were happy," Stiles said. "I guess they told the rest of the forest? I've got to thank it now," said Stiles, kneeling on one knee and placing his hands on the mossy loam. He thanked her for mothering the elk and nourishing the trees. He directed the energy back into healing; he told the earth - the soil and moss rock and water and all that was part of her - to heal whatever needed help, to flow into the trees and moss and lichen and insects and birds and every part of her, everything that she sustained. He closed his eyes, pressed both of his palms to the ground, and directed the flow that was filling him, letting it seep back in, back to its source.

"Stiles, open your eyes," Derek said, sounding awestruck. 

The forest was glowing, streams of soft white light flowing up tree trunks and along the earth, pinpoints of light glowing from the tips of fern fronds, hemlock and spruce needles, and moss leaves.

"Wow," was all Stiles could say. 

"You are amazing," Derek said, staring slack jawed at the display.

And then just like that, as he was looking at Derek and thinking about how blue his eyes were, everything went grey around the edges and his ears started ringing and the next thing he knew his cheek was in the moss and tree needles and Derek was knelt down beside him.

"Shit, Stiles," Derek said, sounding slightly frantic.

"Just passed out," Stiles slurred. "Water and food," he continued.

Delphina had decided to help by licking Stiles' face and head. Which, oddly enough, actually helped, because she was relentless. 

She knew her licks helped. It was why she was doing it, she sighed.

Stiles started giggling, because, seriously, his life was insane. And a very large tongue was attacking him. And he'd made the forest glow and the trees happy and communicated with elk.

Derek was back with water, helping Stiles prop himself up against a tree, sitting beside him.

"I've never passed out before," Stiles said before taking a drink of water as Derek held the bottle to his lips. "Sometimes I feel a little drained, but nothing like that. Then again, I've never done anything quite like that."

"That was incredible! You are - I don't like you passing out, but that was beautiful, Stiles! What was that?" Derek asked, looking at Stiles, awestruck.

Stiles sighed and put his head on Derek’s shoulder. "So the thing is, all I really know is that I can channel the earth's energy. The core of her. Beyond that it's all a bit of a mystery. So I just talk to the earth. And it listens. But the lights? Totally unexpected and new."

Derek was looking off into the distance, mulling something over, his eyebrows creased. "My mom always said that she felt the earth more here," he finally said, continuing, "I never really understood what she meant, but she said a lot that I didn't understand back then. I wish I'd asked more questions." He stopped talking, a look of regret clouding his face.

Stiles stayed silent. Derek had mental steps that he used when he started feeling the need to blame himself. It involved a lot of breathing and visualization and Stiles didn't want to get in the way of that.

Derek felt Stiles' forehead and said, "How are you feeling?"

"Getting there," Stiles said, drinking more water. He was still dizzy and had broken out in a cold sweat, but that all came with passing out. He passed out more than the average individual, what with being part of a wolf pack, so he knew these things. 

Derek blurted, "That bull nodded at you, Stiles! And they're still over there, like we're totally fine, like they aren't afraid of us at all. You can talk to the dog..."

"But not the cat, or at least not yet. And I talked to the trees, not the elk. The trees talked to the elk, I think," Stiles rambled.

"That is insane!" Derek said, smiling at the absurdity of it all.

"You're tellin' me," Stiles agreed. 

"What else can you do?" Derek asked.

"Levitate things, make the wind blow, um, I get excellent cell reception everywhere, so that's nice," Stiles listed.

Derek snickered. 

"Make trees move and light up and communicate with elk - it's all sort of a work in progress. Oh! I got Roscoe to start once on a dead battery. That was before I took her to that scary mechanic."

"Mmm," Derek commented. 

"You know, Derek, I find it funny that I've had and continue to have entire conversations with your grunts and eyebrows. Which means I can also communicate with grumpy, sullen werewolves. Or irritated wolves. Or shocked. Dismayed. Contented. Sleepy. Your eyebrows have a language all their own."

Derek was adorably self conscious, smiling as the tips of his ears turned red. He opened his backpack and pulled out a Tupperware container of almonds. Handing it to Stiles, he said, "Eat."

As Stiles popped a few almonds in his mouth, Derek looked around and said, "There used to be morels out here. Mom would bring me and Laura out to collect them. I think I smell some," Derek said, standing up and holding his hand out for Stiles. "You wanna find some?"

"Yeah, I do," answered Stiles, taking Derek's hand. "I've never had them. If we find some, let's get some for Jackson. Fancy mushrooms seem right up his alley."

Derek held Stiles by his upper arms until he was sure that Stiles wasn’t going to keel over again. When Stiles didn’t, Derek reached for Stiles’ hand and started walking off trail, into the forest.

"Look at the bases of the firs. In December we can come and look for truffles."

"Truffles? Are you serious? I love truffle oil. And they've been right here all along."

Derek instructed Stiles on what to look for and, using his supernose, found a small scattering of morel mushrooms almost immediately. They gathered more than enough to use for dinner and share some with Jackson and Ethan.

After working quietly for a few minutes, Derek glanced at Stiles and said, "The other night, when you had the nightmare, you asked me about my mom.”

"Yeah, when you wiped off my face," Stiles said in confirmation.

Derek stayed silent for a moment, continuing to forage mushrooms. Eventually he said, "All these years I tried not to think about her. I felt like I didn't deserve to remember her, because she was such an amazing person - and no matter the circumstances, I was involved in her death,” He stopped speaking for a moment, biting his lower lip, mulling over what he’d just said. He then continued, “After you fell asleep that night I realized that there are all these beautiful things, these memories of her - this place, foraging for mushrooms, learning the birds and all of the animals and how to track them, how to share the forest - things that are good and that she'd want me to remember. That's why she brought us here, why she taught us and camped with us and did everything that she did. By trying to forget, it meant I couldn't remember what a wonderful mom she was."

Derek looked quickly away and squeezed his eyes shut. He took a few deep breaths through his nose. When he opened his eyes again, there were tears in them. "This was her favorite place, these woods. We spent a lot of time here. I haven't been here since - since then," he finished quietly.

Stiles took Derek's hand in his, holding it with both of his hands. "It's beautiful here," he said, rubbing Derek's hand in his.

"It is. I'd forgotten just how much," Derek said, sniffing and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Thanks for bringing me."

"Thanks for being here with me," Derek said, squeezing Stiles hand.

___

They left not long after that. Stiles was drained and Derek was raw and had clearly faced all of the past that he could for the time being. Stiles never let go of his hand, which Derek was squeezing tightly, as if it were a lifeline. On the way back to the loft, Derek stared out at the passing scenery, lost in thought.

They entered the loft quietly and Derek led them back into the kitchen to start unpacking the backpack that he’d brought along. Stiles helped him silently, keeping an eye on Derek, hoping that their trip to the Preserve wasn’t the beginning of one of Derek’s spirals (as confronting his past often was). As Stiles was closing the refrigerator door, Derek came up behind him and enfolded Stiles in his arms, burying his face into the bend of Stiles’ neck, breathing deeply. Stiles carded his fingers through Derek’s hair and caressed his cheek, turning so that he could fully embrace Derek. Derek was trembling and though he wasn’t making a sound, Stiles could feel tears wetting his shoulder.

So Stiles held him. He stroked his head and caressed his back and shoulders and tried to show Derek that he loved him - so much more than he ever thought he could love a person - with his embrace. That he would do anything to take away Derek’s pain, but that he knew it was something that Derek had to work through - that it couldn’t just be extracted like he’d done with Harry. He whispered, “If I could, I would reach inside of you and take away all of your pain,” and, “I’ve got you,” and, “You don’t have to do this alone anymore,” meaning every word of what he said.

Derek didn’t cry as long as Stiles had. He’d always had more control than Stiles, and no matter what Stiles whispered to him, no matter how Stiles encouraged him he kept his body tense. But the crying, the embracing, the asking for help without talking was all new for Derek. When he finally looked Stiles in the eyes he was timid and seemed lost.

Stiles took Derek by the hand and led him to the couch. He laid down and gestured for Derek to join him and Derek did, placing his head on Stiles’ chest. They lay like that in silence, Stiles gently carding his fingers through Derek’s hair, which was soft and smelled like rain, and caressing his cheek, neck, and back. It took a while, but Derek eventually relaxed into Stiles. It felt similar to when Harry had collapsed on Stiles’ bed, like Derek could finally breathe for the first time in a very long time.

“Stay with me tonight,” Derek whispered, looking up at Stiles. “Sleep in my bed. I don’t want to sleep without you anymore.”

Stiles nodded and answered, “Yeah, of course. If that’s what you want -”

“I do,” Derek interrupted, his sincerity evident in his eyes.

“I want that, too,” Stiles admitted.

He was in love. He loved Derek so wholly and deeply that it astonished him. He had loved - still loved - Lydia, but this, what he was feeling in this moment, was so all-encompassing, so staggering that he didn’t know what to do with it. It almost made him feel guilty, because he hadn’t felt this way about Lydia. But he also wanted this for Lydia - he wanted her to find this, because she hadn’t had it with him. Not this.

It was all so much. And all he wanted was more. He wanted to drown in it. It would be a good way to go.

“I’ve always wanted to do this, I think,” Stiles said. “I’ve always wanted to be able to hold you when it got hard for you.”

Derek hummed in agreement.

“Derek, when did it really start for you, this?”

Derek looked sheepish and then answered, “That’s a difficult question for me to answer. When you were younger, I felt drawn to you. Half of the time even I didn’t know why I ended up in your room. Some of those times I don’t even remember getting there. But you were so young and with my past - I didn’t want to do to you what happened to me. And you were so fucking irritating! Most of the time, I didn’t know what I was even doing, and it was all so fucking confusing.”

“You’re telling me,” Stiles agreed.

“I think there was a part of me that knew even then…”

“Wait,” Stiles insisted, “what did you know? That we were destined? That we were soulmates? That we had some sort of werewolf connection? Because it would have been nice to be in on the conversation.”

“I wanted you to have the opportunity to be a teenager, Stiles.” Derek said earnestly. “I didn’t get that opportunity, not really, and I wanted you to be able to date people your own age and go to prom and play lacrosse and go to college and just grow up. I didn’t want to get in the way of that. And I didn’t think…”

“Didn’t think what?” Stiles urged.

Derek was silent for a moment before he quietly answered, “I thought Lydia was better for you. I thought she was a better person than I was.”

“But you knew! You said that you knew that we were destined!” Stiles insisted.

“It’s not really like that, and I didn’t know until Peter took me back to the bunker again and I spoke to my mom. After that, I started to evolve and I understood things that I didn't understand before. It’s like - it's like you know that the other person is right, that they’re your other half. That they complete parts of you that you can’t complete yourself.”

“So you knew this when you left, when you stayed in Arizona? And then you made me walk away from you and rescue Scott?” Stiles said, his voice rising. “I thought that you were going to die, Derek! You made me walk away and I thought - it all came crashing down on me, Derek, when you were making me walk away, that I should have fought for you. That you could have been it - that WE could have been it! That I would do anything, fucking anything for you! That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. When I found out that you were alive, when Scott told me, I collapsed. I cried for days because it was all too much, losing you, and then learning that you had lived and you weren’t coming back.”

Derek raised himself up on his elbows so that he was face to face with Stiles. He looked him in the eyes and said, “When you love someone, you chose what you think is best for them. You let them go if you have to.”

There were tears running down Stiles’ face. “You loved me and you told me to go?”

“I wanted what was best for you,” Derek said. “And it was looking like I was going to die, and I didn’t want you there for that.”

“God damn it, Derek! Why do you always have to be the martyr?” Stiles grabbed Derek’s face. “I love you so much that it hurts me. That I don’t know how to even say it, how much I love you. You’re never allowed to tell me to walk away again, and I won’t listen if you do. I love you. I’ve loved you forever.”

It started as the wettest kiss of Stiles' life, because he was crying more than he had realized, and Derek had tears running down his face. Derek kissed Stiles’ cheeks, following the tracks of his tears, saying, “I’m sorry, Stiles. I’m sorry that I hurt you, please forgive me.”

“I forgave you the minute I walked away, Derek. I loved you. I realized it then, right then. That all the time that I’d had with you - that I’d made the worst mistake of my life not telling you. But you came back. You came back.”

To say that things became heated is an understatement. It’s difficult to stay detached and slow when love declarations are made. This time when Derek started to writhe (and holy Jesus, Derek writhing on top of him was more than Stiles could handle), Stiles writhed right back. When Stiles' hands ended up on Derek’s ass, Derek didn’t protest and pressed in closer and then they were lined up as perfectly as they could be and Derek pressed in even more closely.

“Der, this - is this okay? Because I really don’t want to stop.”

Derek slowly slid their hips together, creating delicious friction, and growled, “Yes, please yes.”

It was slow and sweet. Derek spent time exploring Stiles’ neck, sucking and nipping and probably leaving marks and Stiles wanted it. He wanted everyone to see Derek’s marks all over him.

Derek looked at Stiles and said, “Once I was outside of your window - at first I thought you were hurt but then I realized that you weren’t - that you were touching yourself - and I couldn’t leave. I froze.” He started whispering in Stiles ear, bucking against him the entire time. “You moaned and gasped and,” Derek let out a small groan, continuing, “and then you said my name. You said my name, Stiles, and everything in me wanted to open your window and be with you. I could hear you moving your hand and your bed springs moving and you were panting…”

It was so good, Derek’s lips against his ear and the slide of his cock against Derek’s, even if there were layers of denim between them. “Tell me more,” Stiles said. “What did you want to do to me?”

“God, Stiles. I wanted you so badly. But I couldn’t have you. The sounds you made - the sounds you make - I left before you finished. I had to. I’ve been imagining what you would have sounded like when you came for years.”

Stiles had started grinding, hard and fast against Derek, the fire in his cock growing more intense. “Fuck, Der. You’re gonna find out soon,” Stiles said, kissing Derek ferociously and possessively.

Derek grabbed Stiles hips with both of his hands and all talking stopped. The loft filled with the sounds of their moans and pants as they both desperately drove each other closer and closer to orgasm. They breathed each other’s air and Stiles felt as if he was drowning, like Derek was dragging him under, like even if he wanted to escape there would be no way that he could. He was dimly aware that he was murmuring, words like, ‘Please, Derek,’ and ‘More,’ but everything was focused on Derek’s lips and their cocks and the devastating love. 

“Does it feel good, Der?,” Stiles panted. “I want to make you feel good, you should feel so good.”

Derek raised up on his hands and canted his hips against Stiles, grinding hard, his head thrown back. When he looked Stiles in the eyes, he looked completely astounded; Stiles could see the control slipping and knew Derek was close.

Stiles grabbed Derek’s face again and ran his thumb roughly along Derek’s lower lip. Derek trembled and closed his eyes. Stiles thumb pressed in, and Stiles felt the warm wet of Derek’s mouth and Derek's tongue as he sucked, and he was done. 

There was no more. He arched into Derek pressing their cocks together and everything exploded. Time stopped but also seemed to go on forever as the world went white. Stiles choked on Derek’s name, Derek gathering him up in his arms and burying his head in Stiles’ shoulder, pressing hard and fast and desperately, his teeth grazing Stiles’ neck as he moaned and growled and licked. Stiles shook and spasmed as his orgasm went on and on and he came in his pants, sticky and hot.

“Fuck, Stiles,” Derek growled, frotting against Stiles with a new intensity. Derek's breathing was fast and erratic and everything was blending together and syrupy sweet the way Derek looked at Stiles and his cock was so sensitive but it felt so good and Stiles loved Derek so so desperately.

“Come on, Derek. Do it. Let me see you,” Stiles murmured brokenly against Derek’s lips. Derek gave Stiles a look of single minded determination and ground his cock hard into Stiles as a look of shock took over Derek’s face. Derek looked between them, where their pelvises met, and then he froze and Stiles felt the heat and wet as Derek came with a grunt, grinding to ride out his orgasm, Stiles’ hands guiding him.

He was so beautiful. He was shaking and still looked completely shocked, staring into Stiles’ eyes like he was a miracle. Like he’d never experienced anything like what had just happened.

“Come here,” Stiles said, bundling Derek up in his arms, kissing his temples and brow and eyelids. “You beautiful, beautiful thing. You gorgeous, unbelievable man,” he murmured as Derek came back to himself. “You’re mine. I can’t believe you’re mine. I can’t believe you love me.”

Derek laid in Stiles’ arms trembling. He sounded small and completely ruined when he spoke, “I do, Stiles. I’ve loved you for so long. I’ve waited so long for you.”

“No more waiting. No more doing it alone,” Stiles said into Derek’s hair. “You’re mine now. Mine.”

“Yours,” Derek sighed. “Only yours.”

“You and me, Derek, it’s only you and me,” Stiles said, kissing Derek’s brow.

“Just us,” Derek agreed.

Just them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an [ active Sterek blog](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fyeahsterek72); updates are published there. Come join me!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for depression and joking about suicide.
> 
> Yep, this one is a bit angsty. With moments of fluff and love. Stiles and Derek help each other through some bad days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made a soundtrack, because this is Teen Wolf on MTv, and there should be a new song every five minutes, or at least each chapter. It is a work in progress until the story is completed, but there will be a link to the song and a link to the whole song list
> 
> [BANNERS - Ghosts](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S1cGFY-bNdU)
> 
> [Great Bi Awakening Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLoYDiCGS25o3pdlzCcwlwhjDbWDnhs2Bh)

The next few days, the loft was quiet. Stiles would find Derek staring out into nothing, or looking like he was holding back tears, or, one time, curled up in a ball in the corner, his head buried in his knees, Delphina’s chin on his back, and he did the only thing that he knew to do. He’d sit beside Derek and put his hand on his shoulder or intertwine their fingers or pull Derek into his arms and just be with him. Derek rarely said anything; he’d acknowledge Stiles with a small, sometimes embarrassed, sometimes cautious and grateful smile, or he’d nod, and then he’d retreat back into his mind. 

These moments were interspersed with intense, universe shattering make out sessions. Stiles would be minding his own business, making a sandwich or running the vacuum cleaner or just sitting at the table working on something for school and Derek would advance upon him, his intent clear in his face, and Stiles would throw everything aside and hang on for the ride. Derek would kiss him and he would have to construct entire new paradigms about what love was, what it felt like: how much Derek just touching his hip or chin or the tips of his fingers literally destroyed him, how consumed he could feel for one person, how he would unequivocally end anyone who ever so much as looked at Derek in a way that hurt him ever again. How he felt absolutely desperate to hold or be touched by Derek, and when he did, it was never enough. He knew there could never be enough. And how much it shattered him to see the same feelings in Derek’s face.

At night they’d climb into bed together and simply look at each other, unable to believe that the other was there, looking back at them. They would tentatively brush hair out of the other’s eyes (because they were both looking a little shaggy, even with Jackson’s trim) or reach out for the other’s hand or their legs would brush up against each other’s and it almost seemed unreal, that they had this sort of access to each other, that they could look into each other’s eyes and see the love that they felt for each other. They were gentle and slow and careful with each other at bed time, carefully exploring each other’s clothed bodies (even if their clothing was only tees and sleep pants and the material was thin and didn’t leave much to the imagination), learning each other’s dips and valleys and what the other liked and didn’t through tentative touches and whisperlite kisses. Derek always kept it from getting too heated, sensing when Stiles was getting too turned on (or maybe smelling it) and backing off, Stiles doing the same. They were also careful about where they touched each other and how they held each other, exploring but never doing anything that invited temptation. Derek needed his time, and while Stiles was ready to do anything that Derek would let him do, there was something heady and wondrous about the slow dance that Derek was leading them in. 

It was the fact that Derek could make him shiver by running his hand down Stiles’ back just so, or that Stiles would cup Derek’s jaw with both of his hands and just stare into Derek’s eyes and feel his breath on his cheeks and lips and have to remember to breathe, the moment so wondrous and raw and open. It was the fact that Derek was there, in front of him, laying himself bare in a way that he hadn’t for anyone, that he trusted Stiles with that. That despite the darkness that Stiles carried inside of him and would probably carry forever, that Derek would smile softly, looking at Stiles like he couldn’t be real and touch him like if he did something wrong it would all evaporate like a dream. Like he was as overwhelmed with the love between them as Stiles was.

Knowing that Derek Hale loved him didn’t seem real. It seemed too good to be true. He’d find himself counting his fingers just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, only to do it again because Derek Hale loving him just as much as he loved Derek seemed inconceivable.

But Derek loved him absolutely and desperately. And had for years.

Stiles didn’t really consider himself a good person. He knew that he was a little shit. He prided himself in what a massive little shit he could be. He liked power and control (a whole hell of a lot, even if he didn’t do anything to gain it). He said unthinking, spiteful things to people in anger. On top of that, a lot of the time, he didn’t do very much to reign his anger in.

If he were a werewolf, he would have blue eyes. Which was an entire thing in and of itself.

Despite all of this, despite knowing exactly who Stiles was, Derek Hale loved him. And Stiles knew, to the very depths of his soul, that there wasn’t going to be anyone else. Derek was it, had always been it, would always be it. 

It was a lot, knowing that he was still a kid (according to his dad, at least) and knew that he’d found his One. That this could be his life forever and that he would grow old and gray with Derek Hale and that there wasn’t ever going to be anyone else. That his life centered around someone who, at first, hadn’t even seemed real, had been unobtainable and leagues apart from him. That Derek and he had built a life that had intentionally led them back to each other. Hell, he hadn’t even figured out how to be an adult and yet he knew that if Derek agreed to it, he’d marry him. Like, that day. 

He never wanted to live a life that didn’t contain Derek Hale ever again.

Which was why it was so difficult watching Derek in pain, knowing everything that had caused it and knowing that there was no way to fix it. Stiles was a doer. He liked to solve problems. Derek’s trauma wasn’t a problem to solve, however; it just was. And so Stiles held him and made him chocolate chip cookies and cocoa and vacuumed and let Malia know that Derek needed a few mental health days and told him over and over that he loved him, always had (even before he knew him) and that Stiles would move mountains for him if that would help him.

Stiles began to worry on the fourth day, when Derek didn’t seem to want to get out of bed in the morning. When Stiles did finally coax him out of bed he spent the day grumbling, snapping at inane things that Stiles said or did, and generally behaving more like pre-Enlightenment Derek than New and Improved Derek. Stiles knew what depression looked like (and felt like) and as the days went by he saw Derek sinking lower and lower into a dark, angry place.

Derek needed help.

He called Dr. Richardson’s secretary Evie the following morning, after Derek poked at the blueberry pancakes that Stiles had made, looking sullen and lost.

“Derek, I’m calling Dr. Richardson today,” he started, which at least got Derek to look at him. “I’m worried about you. There, I said it. I’m worried about you. And when you start to get low, you quit talking and so I don’t know what it is that you need. I can keep doing what I’m doing, but I’m watching you sink and I just don’t know what to do.”

“There’s nothing to do,” Derek said quietly. “It just happens sometimes. I’ll come out of it, but I’m going to need some time.”

“So see, I don’t like that answer,” Stiles stated. “So I’m calling Dr. Richardson. He probably thinks I’m dead anyway. I haven’t spoken to him in weeks.”

Derek looked at Stiles appraisingly, quiet for a moment. “You may not think it, but you have been helping," he finally said, continuing, "It’s just - I’ve been thinking a lot about things that I haven’t let myself think about in a long time. Mostly happy things, memories. But then I realize that those memories are all I will ever have. And then I start thinking that it’s all my fault...”

Stiles went to protest but Derek held up his hand, signaling for Stiles to let him finish. “Do you remember when you told me that everyone tells you that you’re strong but you don’t feel it? It’s the same with me and my family. Everyone tells me it’s not my fault, and intellectually I think that I know that, but there are some days that I just don’t feel it. Those days are hard. They’ve been easier, though, with you here.”

Stiles took Derek’s hand in his, squeezing it. Derek squeezed back. “Okay, I’ll keep doing what I’m doing. But I’m not going to let you isolate yourself. And I already called Evie, so I’ll probably be talking to Dr. Richardson sometime this afternoon.”

Derek nodded and then started cleaning off the table, his plate still full of pancakes that had gone uneaten.

Stiles still had school, but it had turned into a bit of a joke. Most of his professors hadn’t adapted well to online classes and the Zoom meetings just devolved into gossip sessions because everyone was capable of getting their work done on their own. After Stiles had turned in his paper for Greek Mythology, that professor’s wife had gotten sick and the class had been taken over by a TA who really didn’t want to be there. He did have a Latin test coming up, but it would be the last major test of the year (the final project was a rhetorical argument using classical construction and grammar, which Stiles had already started) and he was feeling pretty confident about it. It turned out that he found Latin easy, which was quite the departure from high school Spanish. And his only other class was a required class that he’d finagled his way out of for a year and a half only to be told by his advisor that if he didn’t take it he wouldn’t become a junior, so Research Methods had been added to the schedule, despite the fact that Stiles again knew more than the professor.

So instead of school, as he waited for Dr. Richardson’s text for a Zoom meeting, he researched mental telepathy and supernatural communication with animals. He was getting used to Delphina’s background narration and she with his; he also figured out that he wasn’t, in fact, Dr. Doolittle, as he wasn’t receiving images from Harry or any other animals that he came into contact with, which meant that, yet again, he couldn’t put a label on what or who he was. 

The only insight that Deaton had been able to shed on the issue was that perhaps Delphina was Stiles’ familiar, similar to the daemons in  _ The Golden Compass _ . Deaton thought that Stiles’ experience in the forest demonstrated that he had a powerful connection to the earth and nature and, as such, was able to communicate through the trees. He urged Stiles to continue grounding, but to do it everywhere, to not think that he needed to be in nature to use it. In this way, he would learn to access his power everywhere, in every situation. He also urged Stiles to talk to his father about the possibility of witches, warlocks, and sparks in his family line.

Dr. Richardson texted Stiles at noon. It was good to see his face again. Dr. Richardson had helped Stiles in ways that Stiles couldn’t even communicate, giving him strategies that really did help him come out of his panic attacks, helping him with his paranoia that at some point he’d just revert into some evil, chaotic entity, and just being a person who really understood how fucked up the supernatural world could actually be. He never downplayed anything that Stiles had done; his goal was to help Stiles learn to live with his past and grow into his future.

“Stiles,” Dr. Richardson started, “I was beginning to think you’d fallen off into the unknown. How are you?”

“Well, let’s see,” Stiles began, “I got evicted from Berkeley, had to find a place to live, ended up at Derek’s, maybe caught COVID-19, got better, and then Derek and I started dating. And now he’s going into one of his shame spirals and I don’t know what to do for him.”

Dr. Richardson was smiling softly while jotting down a few notes. “So you’re dating Derek Hale? What happened with Lydia?”

“Well, as it turns out, I was actually a pretty shitty boyfriend at the end there. I mean, you know that we fought a lot. The more that I think about it, the more I’m realizing that I never really opened up to her, you know. That I kept things hidden from her, important things. And that, um, I was in love with someone else the entire time. Someone that I thought was off limits, but still. So yeah, things were pretty shitty.”

“How is Lydia?”

“Well, she helped me get ready for my date with Derek, along with Jackson, who is also her ex, and also her best friend. She seemed okay with it, really. And she’s the one who broke up with me - she’s the one that called it and ended it. I mean, she cried, and she talked to Jackson about it…” Stiles said, his thought petering out. “Honestly, I don’t know how she’s doing, which makes me an even shittier person. She’s with her mom holed up in her grandmother’s house.”

“What have we decided about the self-condemnation?” Dr. Richardson asked.

“You decided it, not me, and I’m not supposed to do it. It’s fruitless and doesn’t solve anything. But when you’ve done it your whole life…”

Dr. Richardson nodded his head that he understood and then asked, “How is your father?”

“Over a year sober, and Claire has moved in with him, so he’s happy. But Claire says he’s really busy with COVID.”

“That’s a big step for your father to take; he’s been single for quite a while. How are you feeling now that Claire has taken a bigger role in his life?”

“I mean, it’s his life, not mine. I want him to be happy. And I want him to stay sober. And she takes care of him. I like her.”

Dr. Richardson made a few notes and then looked through Zoom at Stiles. He paused a minute and said, “Can we talk freely about Derek? You said that you’re living with him. That’s a big leap from dating Lydia to living with Derek.”

Derek was actually sitting on the couch probably six feet away from Stiles. He had been silent but listening attentively the entire time. He moved to stand up when Dr. Richardson asked if they could speak freely.

Stiles turned to Derek and said, “You don’t have to go. There’s nothing I want to keep hidden from you.”

Derek looked at Stiles for a moment as if he were considering whether to stay or not. He then got up, walked over to his computer, grabbed his noise canceling earbuds, and said, “I’ll be on the roof. The tomatoes . . .” trailing off, looking a bit lost for words, and then walking resolutely up the steps and onto the roof.

When Stiles heard the door to the roof open and close he looked at the computer again and said, “It’s not like he talks a lot, ever, really, but he’s been more open, you know, and we went to the woods the other day, it was his mom’s favorite place. He hadn’t been there since the fire. He cried afterwards but I think it was good? He’s been so quiet since then and now he’s starting to spiral and snap at everything.”

“I know that you want to talk about Derek, Stiles,” Dr. Richardson started, “but these sessions are about you.”

“I love him,” Stiles blurted. He’d never said it to anyone else (other than Derek) and the weight of it hit him, stopping him from speaking for a moment. Dr. Richardson made notes, giving him that soft smile again when he looked up at Stiles again. Stiles repeated, “I love him and I’ve loved him since I was 16 years old and it kills me to see him like this, like he’s falling back into who he was. It always killed me. I’ve always wanted to help him, to make it better and now I can.”

“I think we need to take a few steps back, Stiles. The last time I spoke with you, you were focused on your schooling and Dr. Deaton’s lessons. You and Lydia were together - although there were ‘glaring issues’ - your words - and Derek wasn’t even a topic of conversation. Now you are living with him and telling me that you love him. You obviously do, and a great deal - I can feel it…”

“Through the internet?”

“It surprised even me, the first time I felt another’s emotions through a computer conference. But yes, I can feel it through the internet. So if you would indulge me, I'd like it if you could take me through how it ended with Lydia and started with Derek. I feel that I have some catching up to do.”

Stiles sighed and started talking. He talked about how bitter he’d felt toward Lydia, about how he was afraid that the Nogitsune was showing his evil ways because Stiles had never really felt bitterness like that, not even when his Dad had accused him of killing his mom. About how he still felt like a failure to Lydia and how he didn’t know how to make it up to her. He talked about his nightmare and about how he’d never felt the way he’d felt that night as he cried on Derek’s shoulder, how it had felt like a weight had lifted, how he knew what quiet felt like when Derek held him. About how open they’d been with each other, even though it was frightening. And about how it felt good to finally be able to say all of the things he'd always wanted to say to Derek. 

He told Dr. Richardson about the guilt he felt because he hadn’t loved Lydia like this and how he’d wasted two years of Lydia's life on something that was bound to break. How he felt guilty that he got to sleep with Derek every night while Lydia was locked away in a mountain ash house to keep the voices at bay. He talked about how he never felt like he did anything right, and because of that, he wanted to get this right with Derek; he wanted to help him the right way. 

So of course by the time he’d said all of that, Dr. Richardson had to go for his next appointment. 

“Wait, though! You never told me what to do for Derek,” Stiles pointed out when Dr. Richardson told him that he’d like to talk to him in another week.

Dr. Richardson smiled again and looked as if he were looking for what to say next. He finally asked, “Did you ask Derek what he needs?”

“Yeah, but all he said was to give him time. There’s got to be something else I can do for him.”

“You suffer from depression yourself, Stiles. You know that you can’t predict the good and bad days, you just have to take them as they come, to use your strategies, and put one foot in front of the other. Does it help you when you know that people care that you’re hurting?”

“Yes,” Stiles answered, starting, “but…”

“You know that there’s no step by step guide for this. If Derek told you that he needs time, give him some time. Keep loving him. Keep letting him know that you care. Most importantly, however, don’t neglect yourself because your entire focus is him. 

"I’ve found that my patients are experiencing relapses and flares since quarantine began. This is an unprecedented time for all of us, and while our intellect understands what is happening, our bodies are taking some time to catch up. It is very important, Stiles, that you take care of yourself, or you could spiral. 

"Can you promise me something?” Dr. Richardson asked.

“You know that I never do that,” Stiles answered. Stiles never knew what the next day would bring, both in his personal and mental life, so promises were dangerous to make.

Dr. Richardson smiled and said, “Don’t try to hide your dark days from Derek. Be open with him about them. It will be helpful - and truthful - for him and you to let him know that you have difficult days, too. And it will help you to understand that when he tells you that he needs time, time is what he needs.”

So Stiles resolved to love Derek through his grief. That afternoon he made an apple pie, hoping that the smell of hot apple pie would draw Derek back into the loft and get him to eat.

It did.

He asked Scott to buy Derek Lindor truffles at the grocery store because Derek was a fool for Lindor truffles. Stiles did the laundry, secretly loving the fact that he was actually folding Derek's underwear (which were mostly Hanes boxer briefs, black and dark grey. No white undies for Derek Hale) and continued to update Malia on how Derek was doing. Gradually, Derek stopped trying to isolate himself and started smiling again

So it was just their luck that just as Derek started to come out of his depression that Stiles woke up feeling Dark. 

Stiles could feel Derek surreptitiously observing him over breakfast, during which Stiles stared coldly at his black coffee, remembering his conversation with Dr. Richardson.

"This is gonna be a bad day for me,” Stiles volunteered. “These days that I have - it's not as bad as the Nogitusune, the anger, the blackness, but it's like I can feel where he was. I can feel that he was there,” he finished, not looking up from his coffee.

"What do you need from me?" Derek asked.

"Nothing. Just don't be surprised if I'm a dick today."

"And that would be different than other days because…?" Derek gently teased.

Despite his mood, Stiles found himself smiling. It was rare that he smiled on Dark days (unless he was smiling malevolently). It was even rarer that he didn't snap back when someone teased him.

"Derek Hale. Never speaks, but when he does, it's golden. Stay gold, Derek. Stay gold."

"Did you know that  _ The Outsiders _ is one of my favorite books?" Derek asked, smiling softly at Stiles.

"I did not, but now I do. Also, that makes total sense," Stiles quipped, momentarily forgetting that he was feeling Dark. 

"Yeah, I read it over and over again when I was younger. I should read it again," Derek mused.

Stiles snapped his fingers and gave Derek fingerguns, saying, "You do that," and then, for absolutely no reason, he felt the void again.

Derek looked thoughtfully at Stiles for a moment and finally said, "You know that you can talk to me, too, right? I might not be the greatest conversationalist but I know how to listen."

Stiles stared at Derek, biting his lower lip and then said, "For whatever reason, I've visited a lot of dead spaces - spaces in between or nowhere - the Void, the station, the afterlife - in the last few years. In some of them, it's deadly quiet and there's nothing to feel, it's like everything is numb. In others, it's sad, anxious. With the Nogitune, there was chaos and just burning, white rage. When I wake up like this, it's like my body is remembering all of that, all at once. And I'm just a person, you know? I'm not equipped to handle the rage and the nothing all at the same time. It's too much. It almost hurts. And so I just shut down and hide and try not to kill myself." That last bit was an over-exageration - sort of. There were days when he thought about how easy it would be to just end it all. But the thought went as quickly as it had come, usually.

But sometimes it didn't.

Derek was out of his chair, kneeling in front of Stiles so quickly that Stiles didn't register it until Derek had his hands on Stiles' cheeks.

"Don't say shit like that, Stiles, just don't," Derek insisted, at once earnest and angry. Before Stiles had a chance to respond, Derek said, "I know that you're going to say that you were joking. But sometimes you're not joking, not really, and that scares the shit out of me. We're in this together now, right? You can't say that we're together one minute and joke about killing yourself the next because it's not just you now. It's me, too. And I've lost too many people to lose you. Not when I’ve just gotten you."

"I didn't… ," Stiles started and then stopped. "You're right. I'm sorry. I told you I'd be a dick today but I'm sorry. I really didn't mean it and I won't say it again."

"And if you start feeling it, you tell me." Derek ordered.

"I'll tell you. I will. I'm sorry," Stiles said. 

Stiles spent a good portion of the day angry about being a dick to Derek and about giving Derek a real reason to be scared. He stewed in the feeling that he'd never live up to what anyone thought he was or could be because he was so fucking messed up. You know, just basically beating himself up every way that he could.

Delphina didn't like Stiles' mood. She knew he felt angry. She knew he felt out of control. She wanted her people better, less sad. She spent the day checking up on Stiles and then doing the same to Derek, giving them both lots of nuzzles and gentle licks.

Harry also didn't like the way Stiles was feeling, either, although the way that he showed it was to crawl into Stiles' lap, putting his chin on Stiles' chest, and purring as loudly as possible. He even let Stiles pet him rather aggressively, digging his fingers into Harry's coat and ruffling his fur and marveling over how soft and fluffy cats were and how nice it was to have one purring on your chest. It was almost enough to make him forget that it was a Dark day.

Derek disappeared for a while in the afternoon; Stiles didn’t really ask any questions about it. No one wanted to be around him when he got like this; Scott said that he looked murderous and completely unapproachable on his Dark days. So he got it. Derek wanted to get away from him. It’s not like that was anything new.

When dinnertime rolled around, Stiles was coaxed out of his room by the smell of food - the smell of delicious, sizzling food. He found Derek standing over the stove sauteing onions. There was kielbasa that had been already cooked on a plate and pierogies in a strainer in the sink.

Stiles loved kielbasa and pierogies and onions. Loved them. Passionately. It was probably his favorite meal in the entire world, but it was one that he didn’t eat often because it wasn’t exactly healthy. But something about delicious, Polish pierogies swimming in butter and covered in onions was magical. Soothing. His ultimate comfort food. 

And Derek knew this. That alone, that Derek knew what his favorite comfort meal was and had gone to the store so that he could make it for Stiles, was almost enough to completely destroy the Dark.

“You’re making me pierogies?” Stiles exclaimed, feeling totally unworthy of Derek Hale.

“Seemed like a pierogi and kielbasa type day,” Derek said, adding, “I got one of those cream cakes that you love from that Polish bakery, too.”

Stiles suddenly was dumbstruck. Derek had gone not only to the grocery store, but to the Polish bakery clear on the other side of town, in not the greatest area, to get him papal cake. 

Derek loved him.

Like really, truly loved him.

“I don’t deserve you, Derek,” Stiles said.

“We deserve each other, Stiles,” Derek replied, adding an obscene amount of butter to the frying pan. “We’re good for each other. You make me apple pie on my bad days, I make you pierogies on yours. Also, I love you. So there’s that.”

“There’s that,” Stiles agreed, his heart swelling, the Dark being pushed back by the love that Derek felt for him. “I love you, too, you know,” he added.

“I do know,” Derek replied, smiling as he browned the butter.

Stiles sat at the kitchen island and watched Derek as he finished up the pierogies. He moved around the kitchen like he always moved, gracefully and carefully, purposefully.

“My mom used to say that pierogi are the way to a man’s heart,” Stiles mused. “You better be careful serving me those; you might never get rid of me.”

Derek smiled. “Maybe that was my plan all along,” he replied flippantly as he added the pierogies to the onions and butter, browning them. 

Derek eventually made up two plates with ridiculous amounts of pierogies and kielbasa and set them down on the kitchen island. “Dig in,” he said, handing Stiles a knife and fork and sitting down beside him.

Stiles moaned as he took the first bite, it was so delicious. It had been entirely too long since he had eaten delicious, Polish food. “Thank you so much for this, Derek. This means so much, and it’s crazy delicious.”

“ _ My _ mom used to say that food soothes the troubled soul,” Derek replied, adding, “If pierogies help you out on your bad days, it’s a given that I’ll be cooking you pierogies. Plus, this is amazingly delicious. Why didn’t I grow up eating pierogies? Why doesn’t everyone eat pierogies everyday, for every meal?”

Stiles snorted, agreeing, “I don’t know. It’s a question for the ages.”

Derek put down his fork and turned in his chair so that he was facing Stiles. “Thank you for everything that you did for me this week,” he said, looking at his lap. “It really was easier with you here. It’s easier when you know that someone cares.”

Stiles turned toward Derek. “I literally would do anything for you. Anything. I’m sorry if I was a dick today. I try not to be, but it’s difficult to control.”

“You weren’t a dick. Not really. Maybe a little difficult, but not much more than usual. I’ve gotten pretty good at being around Difficult Stiles,” Derek finished.

Stiles smiled, “You’ve had plenty of opportunity,” he said.

“That I have,” Derek agreed, smiling back.

For the first time in a long time, Stiles believed that everything was going to be okay. And he knew that if he had Derek by his side, he would be able to face anything. They would be able to get through it all.

It was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know that cat purrs might actually be healing? It's a topic that I'm fascinated with and [this BBC article](https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20180724-the-complicated-truth-about-a-cats-purr) talks a little about it and also other theories as to why cats purr. Also, note that Harry was purring over Stiles' solar plexus. Perhaps Harry is a reiki master, too?
> 
> I have an active Sterek blog. [Come follow me!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fyeahsterek72)


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles shares the highly specialized book that Jackson bought him with Derek. Which turned out to be a very good idea.
> 
> Smutty times ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made a soundtrack, because this is Teen Wolf on MTv, and there should be a new song every five minutes, or at least each chapter. It is a work in progress until the story is completed, but there will be a link to the song and a link to the whole song list
> 
> [She Wants Revenge - Tear You Apart](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ixw_bLVUL34)
> 
> [Great Bi Awakening Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLoYDiCGS25o3pdlzCcwlwhjDbWDnhs2Bh)

As much as Stiles was cool with giving Derek time, frotting (and ruining his and Derek's underwear) and making out like high school kids (and to be fair, while not a new experience for the both of them, it was something neither of them had done a lot of in high school), things seemed to have hit a definite and very firm stand still. And Stiles only had so much underwear. 

He'd been doing a lot of laundry.

They hadn't really done a lot of talking about sex beyond Derek's desire to savor the experience, either. They had done a whole hell of a lot of increasingly desperate groping and frotting, but you didn't really need to talk to do that. And after that they were so wrung out and astounded that talking seemed like it would ruin things, somehow.

They needed to have a frank, adult, 'what's the plan here' sit-down, and it needed to happen even if Derek wanted to keep taking it slow.

So one afternoon after lunch, as they put the finishing touches on The Burrow, Stiles bit the bullet and said, "I ordered you some underwear. You don't have any white, which seemed like a huge gap in your color selection. Also until recently I personally never really saw the need to own more than, say, ten or so pairs of underwear and we're going through a lot of underwear. Like multiple pairs a day. So I got some, too."

Derek was giving Stiles the 'I know there's subtext here but I'm not quite getting it' squint of confusion when he said, "Thanks?" 

Then he gave Stiles the 'Well? Are you actually going to tell me what I'm missing?' eyes.

Stiles sighed and put down the bricks he was holding so that he could focus all of his attention on Derek. "I've been avoiding it because, well, you don't seem to want to talk about it - but we need to. I mean, we are both adults . . ." Stiles began.

Derek employed his 'For Christ sake, Stiles, just say it' eyebrows while at the same time making the 'any time now,' scowl. 

"Sex, Derek. We need to talk about sex. Now don't get me wrong, what we're doing is amazing - like, mind alteringly amazing - but there are times when I get the feeling that you might want something else or more maybe you want to go further or - I don't know. I could be totally wrong and if I am then I'm wrong and we're all good. But we've got to talk about this stuff. Because I can't read your mind, no matter what the rest of the pack thinks."

Derek had gone still, looking very intently at the Molly Weasley minifigure he'd been assembling. "It's not that I don't want to talk about it, I've just never really discussed - this - with anyone and it's not - easy?" Derek offered, looking very unsure of what to say next.

"Okay," Stiles began, "well, let me ask you this: what's something you've wanted to do or say but felt uncomfortable about?"

Derek exhaled and looked a little defeated and said, "Paige and I, we didn't do anything but kiss. And then Kate . . ." Derek took a deep breath through his nose as if steeling himself to talk about this and continued, "we just had sex a few times; that's all she really needed to do to get her claws into me."

He finally looked at Stiles, peeking up tentatively, and Stiles must have been doing something right, because when Derek looked at him he visibly relaxed. When he spoke again, it came out with much more ease. "Jennifer is sort of a fuzzy memory. It's not that I didn't want her, it's just that I'm not sure it would have happened so quickly if she hadn't been using her magic on me - and deceiving me. And we only had sex twice.”

Derek stopped for a moment, looking like he was composing his thoughts while he sorted the remaining bricks that were on the table.

"Brayden," Derek finally said with a shy smile, "Brayden helped me realize that it was okay to trust someone, that there were people out there that you could open up to, that wouldn't use you, specifically when it came to sex. She helped me feel more confident and not so ashamed about what I wanted. It was - really good. But we both knew from the beginning that it wouldn't last.

"Also, there wasn't a lot of talking going on," Derek admitted with a blush. "So all of that is to say that I really haven't done a lot. And this - us being men - it's not that I don't want to, I really, really do, it's just . . ."

"Frightening. And intimidating?" Stiles offered, and Derek nodded in agreement. 

"Yeah, I get that," Stiles commented because the whole gay sex thing was new territory for both of them. Also, they'd both been building expectations surrounding sex with each other for years.

"I only had sex with Malia a few times. Don't get me wrong, there was a lot of groping and making out, but all the way? Four times. It was difficult to actually find a place, and then I sort of fell apart and Malia just kept getting stronger . . ." Stiles began, realizing that this was, in fact, difficult to talk about. Also, there was Lydia to explain. "So once Malia figured out that I was basically wallowing in self-hatred we broke up."

"Lydia," Stiles began, pausing for emphasis, "well, between you and me, Lydia Martin is a freak. Not that I was ever complaining! God no! I mean, I'm not exactly 100% vanilla, but Lydia - I guess she decided that I was gonna be the one she tried things with. We experimented a lot. She pretty much always led things and she wanted to try everything and I just went along with it.

"She likes control - a lot - and we spent a lot of time, um, exploring that," Stiles continued, emphasizing, "Again, not that I was complaining; I was an enthusiastic participant in everything that we did."

So the big question is, how does one politely tell the person they are in love with that they regularly got pegged? That they took it up the ass from a girl into dominance and liked it? Because those particular words weren't going to work in this situation. 

Stiles took a breath, let it out, and finally blurted, "Which is to say that I have had anal. As, um, the bottom. She is into pegging, which could work out well in this particular situation. You can thank Lydia for that. For me knowing that I'm into - that. That I like that."

Well, that got Derek’s attention. He was now staring at Stiles in slack jawed disbelief. Well, just momentarily, because he quickly regained his composure at least enough to close his mouth.

“We were always careful about pregnancy and STDs and all of that - not that you have to worry about that, but it’s a good thing to know, that I’m a responsible sexual partner. And _of course_ we were careful, it was me and Lydia. What else would we be? And we did have just regular, vanilla sex, too. But yeah, I have experience with - that.”

Derek looked like he was desperately trying to not react to what Stiles had told him. He wasn't doing a very good job, however, hiding the fact that (a) Stiles’ admission brought him a great deal of relief and (b) bottom!Stiles turned him on more than a little bit. “That’s good to know,” Derek finally said, his voice distinctly rougher than it had been a few moments ago.

Just then, inspiration hit Stiles. "You know what? This is just a guess, but I have the feeling that you might benefit from the highly specialized book that Jackson got me," Stiles said, jumping up and gesturing to Derek that he shouldn’t go anywhere, that Stiles would be back in a jiffy.

In a few minutes he returned and with absolutely no ceremony or comment he put _The Joy of Gay Sex_ in front of Derek. The book itself said more than enough.

Derek looked completely dumbfounded by the book, opening his mouth to talk a few times before closing it again, all the while staring at the book. 

"This is what Jackson gave you?" Derek finally croaked.

"Oh, there was more than that, Derek. Are you sure you want to know?" Stiles answered.

"You know what? I actually do not." Derek said, still staring at the book, looking like he wanted to touch it but didn't dare to.

"So it's actually pretty good. Informative. Answered some questions that I had. Also, incredibly hot drawings - um, yeah, they’re really hot. You should read it. It might answer some questions or, I don’t know, calm some fears."

Bless Derek’s heart. Anyone would think looking at him that he was a confident, sexy love machine. This talk, though, and the way he was staring at the book with a mixture of anxiety and morbid fascination, let Stiles know that Derek was still more than a little out of his depth. And that he definitely still had cold feet.

Stiles said, "I'm thinking Delphi and I could use a long walk - unless we needed to talk more . . ." giving Derek the opportunity for a little space to come down from the conversation.

Derek stared at the book for a while longer and finally said, "No, I'm good," distractedly, pupils widening.

"Derek," Stiles started, pausing until Derek looked at him, continuing, "No pressure. Like truly. It's just, when I'm feeling overwhelmed about something, learning about it helps. And it is a very good book. It’s considered a classic in the gay community. So that's why I gave it to you. Not to speed things up or anything. That's all."

Derek's face visibly relaxed. "Okay," he finally said, giving Stiles a smile that said 'I appreciate that and I trust you.'

And that was that. It wasn't a comprehensive talk by any means, but it did open a door at least. Also, they didn't jump into bed with each other that night; they did, however have phone sex, which was pretty damn awesome.

It was around 11:00 that evening and Stiles had been lying on the couch reading the news and texting Scott and his Latin study group about the test they had in two days. The news was depressing, Scott needed a pep talk about his upcoming Organic Chemistry final (he hated Chemistry, but it was a requirement for pre-vet, so Stiles had been his mobile cheerleader since Organic had started last fall), and he was ready for the Latin test. He was bored out of his mind.

Derek had been quiet since the talk. They'd eaten dinner together and done all of the things that they normally did in the evenings (because by now they had a pretty solid daily routine and it helped both of them mentally to stick to it) but Derek spent most of the time deep in thought or quickly glancing at Stiles or obviously distracted. He finally disappeared into his room at ten (which was early for him) and didn't come back out again. Stiles tried not to overanalyze the situation - Derek went internal when he was working through something. And Stiles had just laid a shitload of Something on Derek.

Stiles phone howled at 11:12. He smiled as he reached for the phone; Derek's ringtone had been making Stiles heart do little skippy things for a long time now.

“Hey, Derek, whatcha need?” Stiles answered, also wondering why Derek was calling him when he could just yell at Stiles from the second floor.

“Nothing. I just, um, wanted to talk?” Derek said, not sounding sure of himself.

“Did you really, because I’m getting a ‘I’d rather be doing anything but this’ vibe from the tone of your voice,” Stiles remarked.

“No, I . . .” Derek started, and then huffed, and then huffed again, and said, “This book is . . . “ he trailed off again.

Stiles sat up from his slump on the couch at full attention. So this was about the book, which meant that they would be talking sex, and specifically gay sex, which sort of meant that they were talking about Them And Sex. Stiles was VERY interested in what Derek had to say.

“It covers pretty much everything,” Derek finally said. 

It was clear to Stiles that Derek didn’t know where exactly he was going with this conversation, so Stiles said, “Did you like it?” He hadn’t meant to say it so suggestively, but he had, and he was pretty sure that he heard Derek swallow drily on the other end of the phone.

“Yeah,” Derek finally said, rough and quiet.

“Was there a particular section that you liked more than the others - perhaps found educational?” Stiles asked, trying to not sound suggestive. And failing. Because how could he keep his dick from getting hard when Derek sounded like that?

Derek must have picked up on Stiles current state (even from upstairs in his bedroom - he must be lousy with sexy smelling pheremones) because when he spoke, he sounded needy. Or maybe Derek was just horny, too.

“The pictures are - I liked the drawings,” Derek finally said, and it sounded like there was fabric rustling or he was moving around on his bed.

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed, flopping over onto his stomach so that he could rut languorously against the couch. “I like the pictures, too. I have favorites, could you tell?” There wasn’t any way, really, that Derek could tell - probably. Stiles hadn’t spent a lot of time staring at the pictures or anything. But he did have a few that he had looked at a little longer than others. Perhaps with his hand on his dick.

“I can smell you on the book. The page with the Missionary drawing smells like you.” Derek said.

“No way,” Stiles blurted, because how? “You can seriously smell that I looked at that page longer?” he asked, genuinely astonished.

“You didn’t just look at it, Stiles, you got yourself off. Paper absorbs smells,” Derek answered.

“That is - I don’t even. . .,” Stiles said, and Derek chuckled softly on the other end. But Stiles got himself together quickly and finally asked, “If I were a wolf, what page would I smell you on?”

Derek inhaled quickly, quiet for a moment, and then said, “Rimming. And Ass Up.”

“Is that how you want me?” Stiles asked, and completely gave up on keeping his hips still. “On my belly, face down, ass up, ready for you?”

Derek hissed on the other end and Stiles realized that Derek’s hips were probably in motion as well. Which made this maybe the hottest phone conversation of his entire life.

“I want you every way. I want to have you every way I can have you,” Derek said, his voice tight.

Stiles put Derek on speaker and put the phone down beside him. “Did you like the section on phone sex?” Stiles asked, turning over onto his back and rubbing his hand over his crotch, suppressing the urge to moan. 

“I did,” Derek said, “it gave me ideas.”

“Have you been thinking naughty things, Derek? Maybe playing with yourself a little? Do you still even have clothes on, Derek?” Stiles asked, because he didn’t know what Derek had been up to in the last hour. With a book on gay sex full of erotic drawings. And he wanted to know.

Stiles heard rustling and Derek’s phone moving around for a few moments and then Derek said, “I'm not wearing anything anymore.”

Well then. Holy fuck. 

From where Stiles was sitting, he could see the bottom of Derek’s bedroom door. Behind which Derek was currently naked.

Holy fuck.

“What about you?” Derek asked, a hitch in his voice.

“Um, gimme a sec,” Stiles said, jumping up and wrestling off his clothing in record time. He sighed when he finally got his underwear off.

"Okay," he said, laying back down on the couch. 

"Are you really naked?" Derek asked, disbelief in his voice.

"Aren't you?" Stiles asked.

"Yeah," Derek replied.

"Buck naked down here," Stiles said. "We are both naked, Derek. Just a door between us. I am currently laying on the couch with absolutely nothing on. You can think of that every time you sit here now."

Derek's breathing sped up subtly. 

"Are you touching yourself?"

"Yeah," Derek answered softly.

"Feel good?" Stiles asked as he absently stroked his fingers over the hair of his abdomen.

"Yes. Are you touching yourself?"

"Yeah, Der, I am," Stiles replied with a hitch in his breath. "Where are your hands, Derek?" he asked, closing his eyes to visualize.

Derek exhaled loudly and said, "On my cock."

Holy shit. Derek Hale just said the word ‘cock’ to him. 

They were having phone sex. Holy shit.

"Have you ever done this before, Der?" Stiles asked, teasing, "or do I get to pop your phone sex cherry?"

Derek huffed a laugh and answered, "You're my first, Stiles." And then he growled, "Be gentle with me," teasing and sounding pleased with himself.

So Stiles was leading this. He could do this - he was actually good at this. He could be hella filthy when the time was right. 

So what to say? There were so many options. Then it hit him. He was going to use one of the most sexually charged moments of his life thus far and he was also going to get some answers. 

“Do you remember that time in my room when you slammed me against the door? Not long after we met? When you were hiding?” Stiles asked.

Derek swallowed loudly and said, “Yeah, I remember that,” his voice gruff and throaty.

“One of my favorite things to think about when I’m getting myself off is that moment. And imagining what could have happened. Because you wanted me, didn’t you?” It was a gamble; Stiles didn’t really know if Derek had been hot for him then, but that moment had been filled with a lot of tension and Stiles believes that it was the first moment that Derek noticed his lips. "I can still feel the door against my back. You touched my cheek and you grabbed my jacket. You were so close. You had to have known how turned on I was."

Derek growled softly on the other end of the phone. “I couldn’t stand you then,” was his answer. "You made absolutely no sense to me."

"Why'd you end up in my bedroom, huh? Doesn't make a whole lot of sense for a wanted man and a suspected murderer to break into the Sheriff's house, does it?" Stiles taunted. "I think that there was something in that room that you wanted so much that you were totally irrational. You grabbed me the second I walked through the door. Slammed me up against it."

"You drove me insane, Stiles. I was a fugitive." 

“You wanted to fuck me,” Stiles challenged while at the same time taking his cock in hand, and a low growl came from the other end of the phone. "You did, didn’t you,” he pushed.

Derek’s breathing came through the line, heavy and deep. He finally said, “I wanted to destroy you. You don’t know how much - how hard it was for me to let you go. I wanted to claim you even though I couldn’t stand you.”

“Fuck, Derek. I want to know what you wanted to do to me.”

“I remember fisting your shirt. I wanted to rip it off of you. I wanted to bite your lips and your throat. I wanted to make you mine.”

“I wanted you to. I wanted you to push me down and use me.”

Derek’s breathing had gotten a bit harsher and if Stiles really focused he could hear the wet sound of Derek’s hand on his cock. Stiles kept moving his hand, collecting the wetness at his slit and smearing it over his head.

“I wanted to put my hand around your cock and claim you,” Derek partly moaned. “Push you down and tear your clothes off and swallow you down until you shot down my throat. I wanted to taste you on my tongue.”

“Fuck, Derek. I love your filthy mouth. When I imagine it, you turn me around and push me up against the wall. You push my jeans and underwear down just enough to get into me. Crowd me in while you tease my hole with your cock. You just rub your cock against my hole, telling me how you’re going to fill me up, split me open, ruin me,” Stiles moaned long and low, his toes curling. This was too good. “I don’t know if I’m going to last much longer, Der. I’m imagining your hand on my cock while you start to fuck me.”

“God, Stiles. I wouldn’t have been gentle with you. I would have pounded you into the door until it broke. And then I would have pounded you into the floor.”

“Yes,” Stiles hissed, raising his hips to pump into his hand. ‘Do it, Derek, fuck me into the floor. I want you to.”

Derek whined. His hand was moving more quickly. His breathing was getting erratic. “Your ass is mine,” he growled.

“Yours, Derek. Make it yours,” Stiles gasped.

Derek had dissolved into grunts and whines and harsh breaths. Every so often, he’d whisper ‘yes’ or make little ‘hah’ noises.

“You getting close? You gonna come soon for me? I want you to fill up my hole,” Stiles panted, not really knowing how much longer he could hold himself off. 

“Yes,” Derek growled, “Gonna breed you, gonna - FUCK Stiles! - gonna fill you full. Make you come on my cock, come with my cock buried in you.” Everything Derek said came out as harsh pants.

It was so damn erotic. And Derek had wanted him. Stiles had known it, and that made him feel smug and vilified and also like the hottest, sexiest person alive. Well, besides Derek Hale. Who had wanted to swallow his cock and hate fuck him into the floor. Which was so god damn amazing that he didn’t have words for it.

“I can’t -” Stiles started, because he really couldn’t talk anymore. He was having trouble thinking, right on the crest, riding the edge. His hand was moving so quickly it was a blur.

And then on the other end Derek let out a sob and a choking noise. Stiles could hear the creaks of Derek’s bed as he moved, the rustle of his sheets and the squeak of his box springs. Derek whimpered and cried out, and Stiles imagined him bowed off of the bed, his cock in his fist, his eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in ecstasy.

“Yeah, Der,” was all Stiles could say because he was so close - right there. Nothing else mattered as his hand flew and everything coalesced into a point in his groin. He dug his feet into the couch to give himself more leverage to fuck his hand. He distantly heard Derek encouraging him to come, as he shot off, rope after rope of cum painting his belly and fingers. He shouted and cursed and then collapsed, sweaty and streaked with cum, shivering from the force of his orgasm.

Derek was panting on the other end of the phone. Stiles discovered that there was cum on his chin.

“Damn. I hit my chin,” he said, more to himself than anything else. “There is cum on my chin.”

Derek laughed. “You did?” he asked, sounding both awestruck and pleased.

“Yeah. There’s cum all over me,” he remarked offhandedly, screwing his face in disgust over all of the cum on his hand..

Derek growled.

“That do something for you?” Stiles asked.

“Rub it in,” was all Derek said.

And now it was Stiles' turn to be surprised, because while he understood that werewolves are all about smell, ‘rub it in,’ is not the type of command that typically came out of Derek’s mouth. Derek was quiet and closed off and almost timid about sex. ‘Rub it in’ was downright filthy.

“You want me to smear this all over and then get dressed and come to bed? With you?” Stiles rasped.

“Yes,” Derek answered, possession in his voice.

“You want me to come to bed, where, at the most we will spoon each other, smelling like cum? Are you sure?” Stiles asked, because (a) it was kinky as fuck, and he liked it, and (b) cum was sticky and gross. But if it’s what Derek wanted, he’d do it in a second.

“Yes,” Derek insisted.

So Stiles did, and it was gross, disgusting even. But, like the evil little former demon possessed teenager that he was, he made sure to collect some and smear it around his neck where Derek invariably buried his face when he slept. 

He didn’t bother putting his jeans back on. Derek had seen him in his underwear. He gathered up his things, turned off the lights, and climbed the steps to join Derek in bed.

Stiles knocked on Derek’s door, asking, “Are you decent,” before opening it.

“I’m dressed,” Derek said. “I don’t know about decent.”

Derek was on his side facing the door when Stiles entered. The room was thick with the smell of sweat and sex. Derek didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was scenting the air as Stiles got into bed. He growled again as Stiles backed up into him and purposefully positioned himself so that Derek had to smell his neck.

“You’re a naughty boy, Stiles Stilinski,” Derek murmured before he started licking and laving at Stiles' neck.

“Says the man who told me to ‘rub it in’,” Stiles countered, happy that humans had a refractory period because Derek licking his neck (like it was the best tasting thing in existence) was too hot for any red blooded young adult male to handle.

Derek chuckled, obviously pleased with himself. “Thought that’d do something for you,” he mumbled into Stiles’ neck.

“So the book was okay?” Stiles asked, smiling to himself as he said it.

Derek laughed. “The book was amazing. And highly specialized,” he said, nuzzling into Stiles' neck.

Stiles sighed. Post-masturbatory cuddling with Derek Hale was everything.

He couldn’t believe his life.

“Love you, Der,” he said, feeling sleepy and sated.

“Love you too, Stiles,” Derek answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I didn't know it when I started writing this, but upon further investigation I found out that The Joy of Gay Sex is considered a groundbreaking classic in gay culture. It's laid out alphabetically and each section is written conversationally and approachably, but it's also incredibly erotic. At the time it was written, which was the late 70s, you couldn't talk about gay sex. It was difficult to find a publisher and the initial drawings for the book were rejected because the author found them too stereotypical. [You can view the drawings here](http://honesterotica.com/illustrator/joe-phillips), but be warned, they are VERY NSFW.
> 
> Thanks for your patience, all. This is a completely new chapter that I threw in at the last minute because I felt like there needed to be something between the last chapter and the upcoming one.
> 
> Also, thank you all for the continuing kind comments and encouragement. And welcome to those of you who are just discovering this fic. Just so you know, sometimes it takes a week or two for me to get a chapter up. I'm a busy working home-schooling mom and just like a lot of you, some days it feels like I'm hanging on by the skin of my teeth. This fic is my outlet. It is completely plotted out, but I am rewriting chapters before I post them. So hang in there and new chapters WILL come.
> 
> I hope that you all are surviving and even thriving in the midst of all of this. 
> 
> And finally, specifically for @3White_Mage3 - the white underwear was planned before your comment. I squeed when I read your comment (which, for the rest of you, was on the last chapter and was  
> "First, I don't usually comment on fics for which the author has chosen to moderate comments, but here we are.  
> Second, "No white undies for Derek Hale". And damn, ain't that a damned shame! That's not how he appears in my ... prayers ... every night.")  
> What can I say? Great minds think alike.
> 
> I have an active Sterek blog. [Come follow me!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fyeahsterek72)


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made a soundtrack, because this is Teen Wolf on MTv, and there should be a new song every five minutes, or at least each chapter. It is a work in progress until the story is completed, but there will be a link to the song and a link to the whole song list
> 
> [Marshmello - Happier](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m7Bc3pLyij0)  
> [Lizzo - Truth Hurts](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P00HMxdsVZI&list=PLoYDiCGS25o3pdlzCcwlwhjDbWDnhs2Bh&index=19&t=0s) Cuz' Lydia is 100% that bitch.
> 
> [Great Bi Awakening Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLoYDiCGS25o3pdlzCcwlwhjDbWDnhs2Bh)

Lydia called the next day, and Stiles was so bored that he didn’t think twice about answering the call. He still felt like a failure and like he owed Lydia something, and in the past that might have meant that he would have ignored the call. But boredom had always driven Stiles to do potentially difficult (or stupid or downright dangerous) things, so he answered the call.

“Hey, Lyds,” he said, and then kept quiet, because Lydia didn’t like to speak on the phone and was very efficient with her phone calls.

“Hey, so I have three things that I need to talk to you about. You free?” she asked.

“Yep. Very bored. And free. Nothing at all to do. Is it getting to you yet?” Stiles asked.

“Well, a little. We’ve got a lot of land, though, so we walk every day. And Jackson and Ethan have come a few times. And some other pack. So, listen: I was contacted by a recruiter for the CIA last week. For their cryptography division. You know that I have been working on [Kryptos](https://www.cia.gov/about-cia/headquarters-tour/kryptos) at school; I kept working on it here. Not like there's much else to do. Anyway, I think I made a pretty big breakthrough and so I contacted one of my professors, because I needed a bit of guidance, and he happened to have some contacts, and now the recruiter from the CIA wants to videochat with me.”

“That’s awesome, Lyds!” Stiles said, because like he’d already pointed out, Lydia would be an amazing spy.

“Well, yeah, I guess. I’m not sure that’s the direction I want to go - you turned down the FBI,” Lydia pointed out.

“Well, but that’s because Deaton had already started training me and Scott’s the alpha - otherwise I probably would have considered it a bit more seriously,” Stiles explained.

“Also, you had just started texting Derek again . . .” Lydia put forward.

“But that’s not why, Lyds! The thing that was making it the most desirable was that I’d be closer to you - that and also it’s the FBI, which is rad. I was really close to telling them yes.”

“Mmm hmm,” Lydia answered. She didn’t sound angry or hurt, just knowing.

“Seriously, Lyds. He wasn’t a consideration.”

“Maybe not consciously,” Lydia commented, quickly followed by, “but I’m not calling you to give you a hard time about Derek, I just want to know what you think about the job.”

Stiles didn’t say anything for a minute, because maybe what Lydia was saying had some truth to it. Which made him feel even worse about his treatment of Lydia. He finally said, “I’m sorry about what a shitty boyfriend I was. I really am, Lyds. When we started, you were everything. And if I did become more distant or shittier when I started talking to Derek again, I’m so, so sorry about that. I feel terrible for what I’ve put you through.”

“Pssh,” Lydia said, and Stiles could see her gesticulating in his mind. “I’m a big girl. It did hurt, and to be honest, that week that you cried over Derek being alive I knew I was probably working on borrowed time. So I probably shut down a little then, too. We both played a part in it, Stiles.”

“Is that when it all started to go downhill, when I started texting Derek?” Stiles asked, because he’d been spending months trying to figure out what really tipped them into ‘our relationship is doomed’ territory without much luck.

“Maybe. Or maybe it’s just that there was something better out there for both of us and we were never going to last from the start. I don't regret dating you, Stiles. And for a long time, it was really good," Lydia mused, sounding introspective rather than hurt. "But that’s not why I called. Well, there is another thing related to that, but we’re not at that part of the conversation yet."

“Nope. You know that I’m going to bug you forever until you tell me what the other related thing is, so you might as well spill,” Stiles pushed, and Lydia sighed.

“The other night mom was looking out the kitchen widow and she thought she saw someone. She was really spooked by it so she called your dad,” Lydia said.

“So did my dad spill all sorts of info about me?”

“No, that’s not it at all. You need to let me finish telling the story, Stiles. I’m getting to it,” Lydia said testily.

“I’ll shut up, then. But only because it’s you. And you scare me.”

Lydia laughed and then continued, “Your dad is really busy, so he sent Jordan - Deputy Parrish to investigate. He looked around and couldn’t really find anything, but he said that it smelled like sulfur where mom had seen whatever she saw, so he wanted me to tell you about it.”

“So wait. Your mom saw something but she’s not sure what it was and it left the smell of sulphur behind. And Parrish and you didn’t feel any bad juju? Nothing setting off the old banshee radar?” Stiles asked, clarifying everything further.

Derek, who was sitting in a chair on the other side of the room was watching Stiles, a look of concern growing on his face.

“Well, that’s just it. It’s like - dread. I feel this overwhelming sense of dread whenever I go out there. It's different than what I feel when I sense death - this is colder. More - absent? And Jordan said that it didn’t feel right to him, either. He said that it felt a little too close to home.”

“Home as in hellhound home? Because sulphur and banshee dread and hellhound feels aren’t necessarily a good thing, Lyds.”

“Yeah, I know. And I’ve been researching it - this happened a few nights ago - but I haven’t found very much. There’s not a lot to go on. Jordan isn’t collecting bodies again or anything - he went to the Nemeton and checked and there’s nothing there, no signatures, nothing physical. He’s not feeling off otherwise. And dread could just be anxiety. There’s a lot of anxious people right now.”

“What about the sulphur,” Stiles asked. “And how big was this thing that your mom saw? Did she get any identifiers?”

“See, that’s the other thing. Mom said that she saw something and she thought it was a person, or at least it was person shaped - but tall - but then she said she really couldn’t see it. And when I asked her if that meant that it was dark and she couldn’t make it out better, she said, ‘No, I literally had trouble seeing it, almost like it wasn’t there'.”

“Is it spectral?” Or void? Stiles didn’t want to consider that option yet, but it was a definite possibility.

“I didn’t see it. But according to Jordan, something definitely was there. It left a trace behind that Jordan can feel, too. And the sulphur smell lasted a long time. Like I said, I’m investigating, and Jordan specifically told me that he wanted you to know about it, so I’m telling you. He’s been staking out the area and hasn’t seen anything and I’m not feeling anything off, so I think whatever it was is gone, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t stayed in the vicinity. Jordan has made us stay inside since mom saw it. At least until he’s sure there’s nothing there.”

“Since when do you do  _ anything _ that people tell you to do?” Stiles teased. 

Then he realized that Lydia was calling Parrish by his first name. Every time that they’d talked to Parrish in the past he’d been Deputy Parrish to Lydia. And now he was Jordan? What was that all about? “Also, since when did you start calling Parrish ‘Jordan’?”

“It _ is _ his first name and remember, we had this conversation: girls call people by their first names, boys like last names. And remember, he taught me how to fight. Maybe I know him a little better than you do.”

“He’s one of my dad’s officers. I can assure you that I know everything that there is to know about my dad’s officers,” Stiles pointed out.

Lydia sounded a bit sheepish when she finally spoke again. Lydia was never sheepish. “Maybe,” she started, and then swallowed, and then said, “also - yeah - so, you weren’t the only one in our relationship harboring feelings for someone else. Someone that you couldn’t have before,” Lydia said softly.

“Wait, what?” Stiles said quite eloquently. Lydia and Parrish? What? And since when!

“When he taught me to fight he was a perfect gentleman. He never did anything that suggested that he wanted more. Nothing happened except him teaching me to fight,” Lydia said in a rush of words. 

“But . . .,” Stiles said, urging Lydia to finish the thought.

“But,” Lydia repeated, “there were definitely sparks. And it was pretty obvious to me, at least, that he was attracted to me. But I wasn’t interested in him at the time and I had a lot on my mind and he was also too old to act on anything so nothing happened.”

When Lydia finished saying everything she let out a long breath and stayed quiet. Stiles wasn’t empathic, but even he could feel the tension on the other end of the phone.

Across the room, Derek was watching Stiles closely, unsure of what Stiles was going to say about all of this.

“It was so bad between us, Stiles," Lydia pled, continuing, "You know what the fights were like. One day he came to mind and I guess I developed a crush on him. Also, I’m not the only one that had feelings for someone else. I shouldn't really have to remind you of that.”

Stiles found himself conflicted at the whole situation. He wanted Lydia to be happy. And Jordan was a great person that he trusted more than most people. And his dad would kill Jordan and be able to hide the body (especially with Chris Argent's help) if he ever hurt Lydia. And he was with his One, and his life was pretty awesome at the moment. And he’d been in love with Derek, so who was he to have an issue with Lydia having a crush while they were together? What was his problem? 

Of course he was okay with Lydia and Jordan Parrish. How could he not be?

"So I came this close to throwing myself at him the other night," Lydia was saying, "but he hasn’t let anything happen now because he wanted me to talk to you before we actually dated. He said that he respects and likes you and you deserve to know before anything happens."

“Jordan Parrish is a good person-slash-hellhound, this is all just a surprise,” he finally admitted with a sigh. "Is he good to you? Does he make you happy? Does he make your belly do funny, tumbly things? Because I really do want you to be happy. I want you to find your great love. So if that person is possibly Jordan Parrish then I’m just going to have to be okay with that, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you are, holed up in your werewolf love nest. You have no choice but to be okay with it because he is going to ask me out now and I’m going to say yes.”

“Okay, Lyds.” Stiles said with a smile. 

“Are you saying okay because you don’t want to talk about this anymore or because you're really okay?”

“Both, a little? But also I really am okay with it. More than okay. How could I be angry about it, Lydia? I have no right to be and you deserve love. I want you to find love. I really do,” he ended, because he really did. 

"You don't think we had love?" Lydia asked, sounding uncertain. Lydia rarely sounded uncertain.

"I will always love you, but you deserve better than what I gave you. I held so much back from you; you deserve the person that holds nothing back - the person that totally redefines love, what it really is. The one that blows your mind - that completes you. I want you to have that."

"Do you have that?" Lydia asked.

Stiles looked up at Derek, who was looking intently at Stiles. Stiles smiled lovingly (and maybe a bit shyly) at Derek, and Derek looked down at his lap, embarrassed and smiling.

"I think I might, Lyds," he admitted to Lydia.

Lydia was silent for a moment and said, "I'm happy for you, Stiles. And I want to be one of your best men. I think I'd slay in a tux. Also, as you are well aware, I throw amazing parties. Your bachelor party will be legendary."

"You are the queen of all parties, and you'll give Jordan Parrish an aneurysm, that's how amazing you'll look in a tux," Stiles said.

"He told me that once I talked to you to call if I wanted to see him again. I'm going to call," Lydia warned Stiles.

"I want you to," Stiles said in reassurance.

"I have a good feeling about this. Like it feels right. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, Lyds, it totally does," Stiles answered.

"Thanks, I needed to hear you say that this was okay. So I'll call if anything else pops up but your dad has police patrolling the area and Jordan is usually here so I think we're pretty safe," Lydia said with a sigh.

"Lydia, you can kill with a scream. You have telekinetic powers. You are terrifying. Between you and Parrish this thing doesn't stand a chance. But yeah, I'll let you know if I hear anything else, and you'd better let Scott know, if you haven't already." 

"He's my next call."

"Also, the CIA would be lucky to have you. And you know my feelings about your espionage abilities," Stiles said.

"Thanks, Mish," Lydia replied.

"By the way, you might want to talk to Deaton about getting some mountain ash for your restraints," Stiles teased, and Derek's head flew up from the book he was reading.

"Hmm," Lydia mused on the other end of the line, "how does one infuse a spreader bar with mountain ash? Oh, and sweet dreams, Derek. Yes, the restraints were used on Stiles. Oh, and that reminds me: I have an interesting video to send you, Derek."

"Not yet, Lydia!" 

"Oh, not yet, then. Interesting. Well that answers another question, at least: Jackson has lost his filets. He's not going to be happy, Stiles. They are wrapped in bacon," Lydia smirked. "Let me know when I can send it. And have fun telling Derek about it." 

"Why do I surround myself with such deviousness?" Stiles asked Derek, who still was processing the information Lydia had just given him, looking blankly and open mouthed at Stiles. "So from the look on Derek's face, I think I need to get off of the phone."

Lydia chuckled. "Have a nice evening," she teased.

"Night, Lyds. Love ya," Stiles said as he hung up the phone.

Derek was now looking at Stiles with both dread and expectancy.

"Everyone has a sex video these days, what with camera phones," Stiles started, and Derek didn't even need to talk for Stiles to know he was thinking, ' _I_ don't have a sex video.'

"No one has seen it but Lydia and me, she encrypted it so tightly that probably the CIA can't hack it, and she's eventually sending it to you so don't get all caveman werewolf on me. That's the first point. Secondly, it's just my face and upper torso and I'm wearing a shirt and she's never in it. How much more do you want to know?"

Derek stared at Stiles for a minute as if composing his thoughts and then squeaked, “Everything, maybe? I don’t know! I don’t know, Stiles. Just tell me what you want me to know before I eventually see it.”

Stiles cleared his throat and said, “Yeah, so as we have established, over perhaps years of knowing each other, I’ll try pretty much anything. And Lydia likes control; we’ve established that, too. So we got the idea one night to make a video.”

He paused, and why was it so difficult to tell Derek this? Maybe it was a little embarrassing, except that he didn’t get embarrassed about stuff like this (well, except when it came to Derek). Also, he thought, steeling himself, the video is hotter than the sun, and he wanted Derek to see it, but only after they’d actually had sex with each other. Because this video was maybe a little niche and perhaps a bit much for more sensitive types.

“Okay,” Stiles finally began again, pretty much spewing as quickly as he could to get this over with, “so it’s shot from the side and you see me from my upper chest and up. I was sitting on a kitchen chair. Lydia - she tied my hands to the chair and put a silk scarf around my mouth. She had my legs spread apart, too, but you can’t see that. And then she proceeded to edge me until I almost went insane. I was crying and begging at the end of it, and then I came so hard that I may have passed out for a moment. You don’t ever see her and it never pans down, but it’s pretty clear what’s happening. And that’s it. So there you go. Merry Christmas.”

Derek was simply staring, blinking, and trying very hard to not show any emotional response. “Okay,” he finally said, blinking a few more times before rasping, “I think that I would like to see that someday,” while his cheeks turned pink.

Every time Derek spoke it seemed like he said something that completely surprised Stiles and that was no exception. He didn’t know how he’d expected Derek to react to the reveal of the contents of his sex video, but he hadn’t expected Derek to admit to wanting to see it. 

“You would?” Stiles peeped, suddenly incredibly turned on.

“Yes. I would,” Derek growled, and Stiles noticed that he was clutching his book so hard that his knuckles were white.

“And so you shall,” Stiles said, and what the fuck, Stiles? And so you shall? What the fuck was that?

Derek sniggered. “And so you shall? Really?”

“You try to explain your sex video to your boyfriend, Derek! But also, that was exactly what I thought the moment it left my mouth, so just shut up,” Stiles pouted.

“Aww,” teased Derek, standing up from the chair he was sitting in and stalking over to Stiles, “Did I embarrass you? Personally, I’m looking forward to seeing it someday.” He’d reached the couch and was leaning into Stiles’ ear. “You make the best faces when you come. Not to mention the way you moan. I like it when you moan.”

And now Derek was straddling Stiles, and that was all sorts of incredible. “Probably have some sort of fantasy about shutting me up, too,” Stiles observed as Derek started nibbling his lips.

“I have thought about it a time or two, not gonna lie,” Derek said, not pulling away from kissing Stiles. “I have better ways of getting you to shut up, though.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it,” Stiles smiled.

Derek proceeded to do exactly that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be up in a few days, and let's just say it will earn it's E rating (if it didn't already). And then it will be smut time for a while. The slow burn is 'bout to explode.
> 
> One point that I want to make is that I'm not really following any real COVID timeline, just approximating when things happened. And when I write about the loft, I don't care if what I'm writing is structurally or geometrically possible, because I just don't. It's a story. Besides, all anyone really cares about is the schmoop and sex, and I'm no different.
> 
> I have an [ active Sterek blog](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fyeahsterek72); updates are published there. Come join me!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It gets NSFW in this chapter kids. Yes, you are welcome.
> 
> I've made a soundtrack, because this is Teen Wolf on MTv, and there should be a new song every five minutes, or at least each chapter. It is a work in progress until the story is completed, but there will be a link to the song and a link to the whole song list
> 
> [Hozier - Shrike](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EWLqdAJbu0A) I listened to a lot of Hozier when I wrote these chapters. Yes, I know it's almost a cliche, but they really work for this ship.
> 
> [Great Bi Awakening Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLoYDiCGS25o3pdlzCcwlwhjDbWDnhs2Bh)  
> 

Stiles’ Latin test was pretty darn easy. He’d aced it, he was sure, and that left him feeling pretty good about himself and life in general. He’d taken it sitting at the dining room table while Derek sat on the couch reading on his Kindle. Earlier that day, Derek had a meeting with the entire construction crew telling them that until further notice they were on furlough, but he’d try to find them odd jobs if he could while they were socially distanced. He also told them that they were pack, and pack takes care of each other, so if food or rent or any of those things were a problem for any of them, they shouldn’t hesitate to contact him or Scott. Also, that if he heard that any of them were struggling and didn’t let him know that he’d hunt them down and force them to receive help. Some of the construction crew weren’t used to someone else having their back and Derek wanted to make absolutely sure that they understood once and for all what pack was about. That pack thrived in times of trouble. That they weren’t alone, ever.

Derek didn’t want any of them to ever feel as alone as he had once felt.

So until further notice, the building was empty. And very quiet. Even Scott and Malia had stopped coming around after Stiles’ dad told them that they needed to stay home too, so that they didn’t draw attention to themselves. Stiles’ dad had the same talk with everyone in the pack over the last few days, so that meant that Stiles and Derek were completely alone in the factory until the governor decided that people could leave their homes again.

Stiles was starting to feel a little stir crazy, but they took a lot of walks during the day and Derek was teaching him about the garden, so they spent quite a bit of time outside; that wasn’t the same as going out to eat and to the movies and to parties and seeing his friends.

There was, however, the making out and orgasms, and that was pretty wonderful.

Quarantine, even quarantine with Derek, was starting to get to him. But acing a test had put him in a pretty good mood, and so as soon as he was finished with his test, he decided that it would be a good time to mess with Derek. Really, any time was a good time to mess with Derek, but he was feeling feisty, and Derek was looking scowly, so he made his way over to the couch and sat down beside Derek, snuggling up to him.

"Whatcha' readin'?" he asked.

Derek made a sort of grumpy, growly noise and said, "The Atlantic; it's just another COVID article. It seems selfish to not want to read about it when people are dying of it but I wish there was other news. Everything is COVID-19. Even the celebrity news in COVID. Idris Elba has COVID, Stiles! Boris Johnson has it. First it’s Tom Hanks, and now everyone has it and it’s the only news there is. Even the Kardashians have disappeared, except Kris had a COVID test when no one else in the country can get one. I don't even know anymore," he finished with a sigh.

"Well, here's something for you that is in no way COVID related: I just aced a Latin test. _I_ am a genius," Stiles quipped, feeling smug.

Derek chuckled and his eyes crinkled and he laid his head on the top of Stiles' and then turned so that he was kissing the top of his head. "You _are_ a genius. It's kind of hot," he said into Stiles' hair.

Stiles' smiled brightly, closing his eyes to bask in the glow of how freaking adorable Derek was, and how he'd just kissed his head, just like that. "Derek Hale likes the smart boys, huh?" he teased.

"Just one," Derek said into Stiles' hair.

Stiles turned so that he was looking at Derek. He ran his eyes quickly over Derek's face. 

"Wish I'd known that sooner," he said, his voice decidedly more husky than it had been a moment ago.

He decided right then and there that Derek Hale needed to be wrecked by a smart boy. He needed to know, once and for all, that a smart boy could very thoroughly wreck a beautiful werewolf boy. Wrecked was a good look on Derek, one of his favorites, actually, so Stiles decided to wreck him, up to the point that Derek put on the brakes.

Stiles had formulated theories over the years about certain things involving Derek's possible likes and turn-ons (because figuring out Derek had always been his favorite hobby). He had hypotheses to test and had been having more fun than he thought possible testing said hypotheses. The experiments testing said hypotheses always led to favorable outcomes, no matter whether the hypotheses proved to be correct or incorrect. It was more than most scientists could ever hope for, so Stiles had nothing to complain about. 

He would test his hypothesis about Derek’s ear and neck today. And they would most likely get off in the process. All hail Sir Francis Bacon, father of the Scientific Method.

In the moments that these thoughts were running through Stiles' head, he noticed three things happen to Derek. First, Derek’s pupils dilated and his irises turned that electric blue, right in front of Stiles eyes. 

It was hot as fuck. 

Second, his nostrils flared, taking in the chemosignals. As he did, his eyelids shuddered and for a fraction of a second, Derek looked completely stoned.

Again, hot as all fuck.

Third, he blushed bright red. Stiles was beginning to believe that Derek's blushes were their own language and when he blushed like he was currently blushing he was turned the fuck on, but a wee bit shy about it.

And yeah, Stiles was turned the fuck on, too. A whole fucking lot. And not shy about it at all.

Never one to turn down a golden opportunity, Stiles scrambled as quickly as he could until he was straddling Derek, his hand gripping Derek's cheeks. At first he made like he was going to kiss Derek, but then he turned Derek's head, ran his lips softly along the stubble of Derek's cheek, molded his body to Derek's, and brushed his lips to Derek's ear. He heard Derek gasp. Derek turned his head a bit so that he was turning away from Stiles and Stiles could get to his ear better.

"Do you like that?" Stiles whispered, careful to blow out just the right amount of air, letting his lips roam over Derek's ear as he said it.

Derek mumbled a slightly higher pitched, "Uh huh," and threaded his fingers into Stiles' hair.

Stiles chuckled darkly and then bit Derek's earlobe and was awarded with another quick gasp. He pulled and played for a second before he dropped just below Derek's ear to the soft divot where his jaw met his skull, and he licked it with just the tip of his tongue, barely touching it, and then breathed out slowly, mouth open, lips just glancing at Derek's skin. 

Derek started canting his pelvis, moving slowly until their cocks were aligned as Stiles slowly and carefully worked his way down Derek's neck, starting with just his lips barely touching, and then peppering featherlight kisses here and there, and then licking and sucking a bit more, nibbling his way back up Derek's neck. 

His hypothesis was correct: Derek’s neck was an erogenous zone, and a mighty effective one at that.

He kept it slow and sensual, giving Derek plenty of time to object to anything, reading every sigh and gasp and moan that Derek made to figure out what he liked and what he _really_ liked.

He got back Derek's ear and whispered, his voice husky, "I'm gonna kiss you and grind on you and make you feel good. Okay?"

Derek's head fell back and he whispered, "Jesus, Stiles. Fuck yes."

Stiles slowly traced Derek's cheek bone with his open lips as Derek turned and their lips met and rather than press in Stiles held Derek's cheeks and ghosted his lips over Derek's. Derek had one hand in Stiles' hair and one moving down his back, fingertips at the back of Stiles’ shirt, gripping and pulling it up. He stopped when his fingertips brushed against Stiles skin just inside the waistband of his jeans.

Stiles ran his teeth lightly over Derek’s lower lip just before biting it and pulling just a little. He smiled when Derek chased his lips with his own as he fractionally pulled away. He then tangled his fingers into Derek’s hair and grabbed hold gently, pulling just a little to get Derek’s head positioned like he wanted it, keeping his lips featherlight. Derek let out a low moan, his fingers pulling up the back of Stiles’ shirt and gripping.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Stiles teased against Derek’s lips.

“God, please,” Derek whimpered.

He ground his cock down hard against Derek’s and Derek moaned low and broken and long. Human fingernails scratched lightly against his skin. 

“That feel good?” Stiles whispered, sensuously circling his hips and then rubbing back and forth, back and forth.

“Please, Stiles,” Derek whined.

“Please what?”

“Kiss me, please kiss me,” Derek begged.

So Stiles did. And he went from teasing to devouring, licking and sucking and exploring the inside of Derek’s mouth and biting and pulling at his lips and pulling Derek's hair to get him exactly where he wanted him. Which Derek seemed to really, like _really,_ really like, given that his hand was shoved down the back of Stiles pants so that he could grip and push and dig his fingernails into the flesh of Stiles' ass.

He pulled back just enough to rasp, “I wanna touch you,” and Derek answered with an enthusiastic, head-nodding, _“Yes.”_

As Stiles pushed his right arm between them, he realized that he hadn’t exactly specified where he wanted to touch. He’d meant Derek’s dick, because he can't even articulate how much he Wants That Dick, but up until several seconds ago, when Derek shoved his hand down the back of Stiles pants, they’d been careful not to touch each other that way. So Stiles tugged at Derek’s white t-shirt until his stomach was on full display and arched his back so that he could see between them and ran his fingertips over Derek’s glorious abs.

“Finally,” he whispered to himself, and Derek groaned. Stiles was finally touching the most beautiful torso that he’d ever seen, one that put classical statues of the Greek gods to shame, one that belonged on billboards in Times Square, and now that he’d started he didn’t want to stop. 

He slid off Derek’s lap until he was kneeling on the floor, pulled Derek’s legs apart, and manhandled Derek’s legs forward so that his ass was on the edge of the couch and he was slumped on his back. The whole time he just stared in awe at Stiles, his mouth half open.

Stiles ran his hands up the outside of Derek’s legs, over his hips, and then back up over his beautiful, magnificent stomach. He locked eyes with Derek and asked, “This okay?” and Derek swallowed hard and nodded, ‘Yes.’

He scooted forward so that he was pressed into Derek’s crotch and rubbed his cheek, with all of its stubble, over Derek’s abs. Derek whimpered. Turned his head so that he could do the same thing with his lips, and Derek gasped and sighed. Kept running his hands up and down Derek’s sides and rubbing up against Derek’s rather tight crotch. Smiled when Derek started squirming, his eyes closed and his mouth open, his abs tensing and releasing, tensing and releasing. He kissed and licked and sucked leaving rapidly healing marks and ran his teeth over Derek's skin (causing Derek to gloriously whisper, “Fuck, Stiles, just - fuck,”) and did everything to Derek’s stomach that he had been wanting to do since high school. 

“You’re beautiful,” he rasped, rubbing his hands down Derek’s thighs, squeezing his taut muscle through the coarse denim of Derek’s pants.

"How can someone be so god damned beautiful?" he marveled, moving his thumbs so that they rubbed in between Derek’s thighs, arching to watch his hands travel up towards Derek’s bulge - and holy hell, what a gorgeous sight that was - running his flat palms over the front of Derek’s pelvis with his thumbs and index fingers circling Derek’s bulge as Derek raised his hips, squirming to get Stiles to touch him.

“Can I?” he asked Derek, and Derek answered, “Fuck, Stiles, god - yes! Please!”

He smirked. Derek had absolutely no chill. None. It was potent, knowing he'd driven Derek to the no chill zone. 

Stiles ran his hand over Derek’s bulge and Derek pushed into his hand and hissed. He used one hand to rub over Derek’s cock, and another to brush at his balls. Stiles watched his hands, mesmerized at the fact that a - he was touching Derek’s cock, b - it was hard, like _really really_ hard, and _did not_ feel small, and c - did he mention he was _stroking Derek Hale’s cock_? Because that was actually happening. Right now. For real.

“Holy shit,” he laughed in amazement.

“Yeah,” Derek huff-smiled, and then his eyes sort of rolled back and he breathed out, “yeah,” as Stiles purposely tried to cup and stroke the head of Derek’s cock through the many layers of fabric.

“Can I” Stiles started to say, and then Derek reached down hastily and unzipped his jeans, hiked up his ass, and pushed his jeans down as far as he could, which wasn't that far with how open his legs were splayed.

Stiles straightened his back and looked at Derek’s tented, bright white underwear (a masterful purchase if ever there was one). Took a moment to examine Derek’s cock, tilting his head and chewing on his lip as Derek stared intently at him.

“Well, there it is,” Stiles said to himself, but also out loud, and Derek let out a nervous laugh, but that turned into another gasp as Stiles jumped into the task at hand and circled Derek’s cock with his fist through Derek's underwear, and started to pump slowly, up and down, up and down. 

Derek’s eyes were closed and his head had turned and slumped to one side. He was making this low, sort of rumbly, purry-type noise and his breathing was starting to quicken. 

Stiles gathered up as much spit as he could and in one fell swoop he spit into his hand, closed his fist, and then shoved it up through the leg of Derek’s boxer briefs, stopping just inside. He fondled Derek’s balls through his underwear with his other hand as he gave Derek plenty of time to object to Stiles' hand near his cock. Derek tilted his pelvis trying to get Stiles' hand nearer, making small huffs of frustration.

Stiles gripped Derek's cock at the base. It felt thicker than his, but not gratuitously so. Again, Stiles wasn’t sure what he was expecting (which is a lie, he was expecting a huge monster dick, which, now that he thought about it, was pretty ridiculous), but what he felt was a maybe a little larger than average cock, which was more than a little reassuring, seeing as how he wanted said cock in his ass. As soon as humanly possible.

Derek let out a long, low, carnal moan and started pumping his hips so that his cock slid slowly into and out of Stiles’ grip, his abs rolling like something directly out of porn.

“God. Oh my god,” Derek gasped as Stiles started to play around with Derek’s foreskin, rubbing it back and forth, up and down so that he could feel Derek’s cockhead appearing and disappearing over and over again. Derek's hands scrambled to grab at the fabric of the couch, scratching as he tried to hold on.

“Wow,” Stiles whispered, because holy shit, he was holding Derek cock. He was playing with Derek’s foreskin. Derek Hale was slowly fucking his hand and looked like something from every gay porn fantasy that Stiles had ever had. He hadn’t actually seen said cock, though, and something had to be done about that.

He pulled his hand back out and hooked his fingers into Derek’s waistband. Derek canted up his hips and helped Stiles pull down his underwear.

Said cock got caught on the waistband of Derek’s underwear before being freed, standing proud and hard. Stiles stared at it, his mouth hanging slightly open, fingers still hooked in Derek’s underwear. He must have stared a little too long, because a - it was his first erect male cock that wasn’t attached to his own body that he was allowed to actually do something with and b - it was _THE_ cock that he’d been fantasizing about for freaking years. It was honestly a little mesmerizing.

“Stiles, please,” Derek pleaded. His eyes were at once wild and vulnerable.

“Sorry,” Stiles said, “It’s just, I’ve been waiting to see this for a very long time.” He reached out and took it in his hand, gentle, weighing it and letting his hand get acquainted with it. “It’s beautiful, Derek,” he said, breathless. "I mean, that might sound ridiculous, but it’s a beautiful cock and it’s yours and it's right here, in my hand."

Derek tried to scoff at Stiles remark, but stopped short as Stiles positioned himself with his mouth directly over the tip of Derek’s cock and spit. Derek hissed and threw his head back as the spit made contact with his cock, but quickly lifted his head up again to watch Stiles hand, which had started moving slowly and a bit more firmly. 

Stiles’ mouth was watering. It was actually watering. So he spit on Derek’s cock again, and Derek groaned. Derek had started moving again, pumping slowly into and out of Stiles’ hand. Stiles looked up and locked eyes with Derek..

"Stiles," Derek whispered. It was broken and wanting and needy.

"What do you want, Derek?" Stiles whispered, and he sounded broken and wanting and needy, too.

"God, Stiles, I - so much. I want so much. I want to kiss you - and I want to see you and touch you. I want everything. I - " Derek moaned as Stiles rubbed his thumb around the ridge of the head of his cock and then teased his frenulum. "Fuck, Stiles," he said is a whisper.

"What else, Derek? Because I want this in my mouth,"

"Stiles," Derek whined.

"And I want to ride it. And I want to kiss you until you can't breathe. I want to lick every inch of your body. I want to make you feel good."

"God, Stiles -" Derek sighed, as Stiles experimented with tightening and then loosening his grip, going faster and then slower to see what Derek liked best. "Could we - " Derek started, breaking off into a moan as Stiles cupped and rubbed the head of his cock. "Stiles, I want - bed. I want you in my bed. I want this to happen in bed."

Stiles stopped everything he was doing, because this was getting real, like really real. "Are you sure?" he checked, and he was happy to hear that he didn't sound nearly as nervous as he had suddenly become.

"Yes, God Stiles. For years - I've wanted you for years. Please."

Well then, if the man was going to beg, far be it for him to say no. So he stood up, held out his hand, and said to Derek, "Well, then, let's go to bed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, Kids, it's a sexual cliffhanger. Yay!
> 
> I have an [ active Sterek blog](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fyeahsterek72); updates are published there. Come join me!


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thus begins the multichapter (loving) smut. I figured rather than keep y'all waiting I'd publish installments. Of the smut.
> 
> Stiles and Derek go to bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made a soundtrack, because this is Teen Wolf on MTv, and there should be a new song every five minutes, or at least each chapter. It is a work in progress until the story is completed, but there will be a link to the song and a link to the whole song list
> 
> [Hozier - Wasteland Baby](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N4rKN_qW5DU%22)
> 
> [Great Bi Awakening Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLoYDiCGS25o3pdlzCcwlwhjDbWDnhs2Bh)  
> 

Stiles started up the stairs, looking over his shoulder, waiting for Derek. Derek was right behind him, werewolf fast, pants back up and zipped, barely containing him. Derek followed Stiles up the stairs quietly, let Stiles open his bedroom door, following Stiles into his bedroom. Stiles stood inside the door, watching as Derek shut it. Derek then turned and stood in front of Stiles, looking into his eyes.

Everything was so much more quiet in Derek's room. Everything felt closer. The air seemed heavier. Derek, somehow, seemed like - more.

It was nearing evening and the light coming in from Derek's skylight was getting dimmer.

Everything felt a whole hell of a lot more Real. Less lust-filled and a lot more serious, suddenly.

Derek stepped in closer, so that they were chest to chest and ran his hands up Stiles' arms, continuing slowly until he was cupping Stiles' face.

No one had ever looked at Stiles the way Derek was looking at him. Derek somehow looked younger, like Teen Derek was peeking through, young and inexperienced and sweetly earnest. Derek was also completely open, holding nothing that he was feeling back, a mixture of love and lust and reverence softening his features. Derek’s eyes darted over Stiles’ face and somehow that seemed to reassure him. He gently rubbed his thumb just below Stiles’ lower lip, and Stiles gasped quietly.

"Derek," he whispered in wonderment. He could hear every breath that he and Derek were taking.

"I know," Derek whispered back, looking over Stiles' face, sounding just as astonished.

When he finally kissed Stiles it was slow and tender, starting with barely a glance of his lips and deepening unhurriedly.

Derek pulled back, keeping their foreheads together, breath quickened, eyes closed.

"Okay?" Stiles whispered.

Derek shook his head yes and smiled.

"It's just you and me, Der, just us. We're amazing together, always have been. Just - do what feels good. Do what you want to do and I'll follow."

Derek pulled his head back and looked Stiles in the eyes. Something shifted in them; suddenly Derek looked more assured.

His next kiss was more confident, harder, more insistent. It stole Stiles' breath and sped his heart.

Derek pulled back and rasped "Raise your arms," as he pulled Stiles' t shirt slowly up his torso, his fingers skimming Stiles' skin, continuing their caress up Stiles' arms. Stiles' shirt was dropped to the side and Derek's hands were between them, skimming Stiles' abdomen, Stiles' body erupting in goosebumps.

And then, with absolutely no warning, Derek collapsed to his knees in front of Stiles' and Stiles gasped, his mouth hanging open. Derek gripped the sides of Stiles torso, pressing the side of his face into Stiles stomach, still for a moment and then ghosting his lips on the skin above Stiles' waistband and Stiles wasn't sure how he was going to live through sex with Derek Hale.

Derek looked up and locked eyes with Stiles, his breath ragged. Stiles tangled his fingers into Derek's hair gently cupping the back of his head with one hand and ran his thumb along Derek's cheekbone with the other. What Derek saw in Stiles' eyes seemed to steele him and his gaze shifted again, and this time he looked hungry.

Stiles was surprised he didn't faint with how quickly his cock hardened.

Derek took a long, decadent breath in, looked Stiles in the eyes again and growled, "The smell of you drives me insane, just - you make me crazy. You smell like sex and man and arousal and I've been ignoring it for so long but God I want it. I crave it, Stiles. I want you so much."

"You can have whatever you want," Stiles whispered as Derek licked his abdomen and Stiles wasn't sure how he was still standing.

And then Derek's hands were unbuttoning Stiles' jeans and unzipping his zipper and pulling them down and then Stiles was out of his jeans. Derek pulled off Stiles socks and leaned back on his heels, looking slowly up Stiles' body.

His eyes lingered when he got to Stiles' erection, still trapped in his briefs (low cut because Stiles figured he'd be getting lucky at some point, so why not have sexy underwear?).

Derek's hands were on Stiles thighs, palms gliding over skin, then skimming up over his erection, lingering but barely touching, then palms were skimming over his torso and Stiles had to remind himself to breathe.

"This underwear is obscene," Derek rasped, his hands now cupping Stiles ass and running up his sides.

"If it offends you so much you should take it off of me," Stiles said, impressed with his ability to come up with snark under such duress.

The corner of Derek's mouth twitched into a smile. He ran his hand more firmly over Stiles' still clothed cock, watching as his open palm traveled the length of it. “I like it. It’s sexy. You’re sexy. You’re so sexy and you don’t even know it,” Derek was mumbling along Stiles’ waistband.

“That’s -” Stiles huffed a disbelieving, slightly hysterical laugh as Derek shoved his hands down the back of Stiles’ underwear, grabbing and squeezing his ass. “How can you - you’re the sexiest person alive, Der, and I’m -”

“You’ve driven me wild since the first moment that I saw you,” Derek growled as he rubbed his cheek over Stiles’ erection and if Stiles’ didn’t have something to lean against he was going to collapse. “There were times that I thought I’d go out of my mind, I wanted you so much,” Derek continued.

“Der, I'm gonna need a wall or a bed. This is - I’m gonna fall,” he warned.

Derek looked up at him and gave Stiles an amused, wolfish smile, placed his flat palm on Stiles’ chest and pushed him back. The wall had been at most 2 inches behind Stiles.

How was he supposed to be aware of his surroundings with Derek nuzzling and running his open mouth over Stiles’ clothed cock while he took deep, indulgent breaths?

There was no way he was going to live through this.

Stiles’ felt his fingers scratching against the wall as Derek pulled down his underwear just enough to free him, immediately nuzzling his erection and then licking a long, slow stripe from the base to the tip of his penis. He let out a long, low moan as Derek took the tip of his penis into his mouth and the shaft into his fist.

Derek had never given a blowjob before, Stiles knew this. He wasn’t expecting perfection, he wasn’t even expecting Derek to be any good. Stiles wasn't even sure that Derek had _received_ that many blowjobs, which was absolutely ludicrous and would have to be remedied. Derek made up for his lack of experience with the way he kept eye contact with Stiles, the way he looked almost drugged, his pupils so blown and eyes half closed. With his determination to draw moans and gasps and whispered exclamations from Stiles lips. Stiles could tell that Derek was cataloguing every gasp and moan while his actions took a bolder turn: his hand tightened and he hollowed his cheeks, taking Stiles deeper, moving more quickly and surely.

“Der, it’s - I can’t believe this is happening. It’s so good, your mouth is so good,” Stiles moaned, head tipped back, stumbling over his words, one hand on Derek’s shoulder, the other tightly gripping his own hair.  
Derek preened at the compliment and hummed, which drew another long moan from Stiles.

It was almost too much to look down, the sight of Derek with his lips around his cock, looking like the only thing he'd ever wanted to do was blow Stiles. Like he was a man dying of thirst and Stiles was his salvation.

Looking up at him with undisguised adoration.

He didn't know if he wanted Derek to look at him like that; he didn't feel that he deserved to have anyone look at him like he was something to be worshipped, so he choked out,"Come up here and let me kiss you," and Derek obeyed.

As they were kissing (sloppier, more frantic) Stiles and Derek both wrestled Derek's clothing off and suddenly Stiles was being picked up and carried to the bed and then Derek was on top of him, molded to him.

“Hi,” he whispered with a surprised smile as Derek looked down at him in wonder.

“Hi,” Derek answered back, eyes lighting up as he smiled back.

And then Derek's smile turned more wolfish as he started to move his hips, huffing as he tried to get Stiles positioned where he wanted him.  
Stiles spit in his hand again and reached between him while Derek rose up a bit to let Stiles’ hand wrap around both of them. Derek breathed in harsh and quick.

“Look at that, Der,” Stiles said, panting, of his hand around their cocks. “Look at us. Fuck, I can’t believe we’re here. You and me. . .”

Derek rested his head on Stiles’ shoulder and looked at where Stiles was holding them, letting out a soft, “Stiles - fuck,” as he slowly thrust into Stiles’ hand.

Then they were kissing again as Derek continued slowly rolling his body over Stiles’ and it was heaven. His skin was soft wherever Stiles touched him, and yet there was hair and muscles and sweat and masculinity. He let out soft whimpers and harsh pants into Stiles’ lips, nipping at them. Derek started nuzzling and licking at the bend of his neck letting out harsh breaths as he continued to slowly thrust into Stiles' fist and Stiles remembered that it had been his plan to lick Derek head to toe. That absolutely had to happen.

Stiles grabbed Derek’s head and looked him in the eyes. His beautiful green eyes, that were clear and determined and filled with so much love. Decided to kiss him again, just because he could. And then he rasped, “Let me be on top,” and Derek gathered Stiles up in his arms and rolled in the bed until he was lying on his back and Stiles was straddling him.

Stiles rose to his knees, sitting on Derek’s thighs. Derek wasn’t usually shy about his body, Stiles had seen him with a towel wrapped around his waist more times than he could remember. It had been torture. But now Derek seemed hesitant, looking at Stiles nervously.

Stiles got in Derek’s face again and said against Derek's lips, “You are perfect. Your body is unbelievable. You should have worked at Abercrombie and Fitch as a shirtless model - they would have sold so many more clothes,” with a smile.

Derek’s nervousness melted away and he smiled and rolled his eyes. Stiles sat back up on his heels and ran his palms over Derek’s pecs, flicking Derek’s nipples (which made Derek gasp and push up into Stiles’ hands) continuing his ramble, “It’s not the sort of career that has upward mobility, though. It’s a shame you have to hide this every day under clothing. There should be a museum, and the only exhibit is you walking around naked. I’m naming it The Museum of Human Perfection.” As he leaned in, giving Derek long, open mouthed kisses in the line between his beautiful pectorals he said, “No one has to know you’re a werewolf. That’ll be our little secret."

Derek huffed a laugh, tangling both of his hands in Stiles’ hair as Stiles continued to kiss Derek’s chest, holding him in place as he licked and nipped at Derek’s nipples, humming in response to Derek’s gasps and squirms and moans.

As Stiles continued to work his way down Derek’s body, he heard Derek say, “It’s like you’ve never looked in a mirror. Your body, I never want to take my hands off of it. The way you move - that fucking yoga that you do! And - your lips. Your hands! You’re the sexiest person I’ve ever known.”

Stiles decided that instead of scoffing he’d run his flat tongue slowly all the way up Derek’s body, up his neck, nipping at his chin until he was looking Derek in the eyes again. “Can we just agree that you are the supermodel and I am the brains in this relationship? Also, I did those poses in front of you on purpose, just for transparency,” he quipped before licking into Derek’s mouth while frotting against Derek. "Had to show off my flexibility," Stiles smirked after resurfacing from the kiss.

"Like I didn’t know that," Derek scoffed and sighed at the same time when Stiles pulled back and started to peck kisses back down his body, kissing random spots like the dip between his muscles and his belly button and the crest of his pelvic bone and then further still until he was bunched up on the edge of the bed kissing Derek's ankle bones and shins and calves. He learned that the back of Derek's knees were ticklish and he could get Derek to moan by running his teeth along his skin. He ran his palms up Derek’s thighs and the valley where his leg met his torso and through the hair on his stomach and down until he was holding Derek’s cock again.

He skimmed his hand up Derek’s cock and ran his nails lightly over his balls and Derek inhaled harshly through his nose, eyes intent, locked on Stiles’.

Stiles smirked and said, “How long have you waited to see these lips sucking you off?,” as he continued to stroke slowly and evenly. “How many times have you thought of me on my knees in front of you? You sure you don’t want to hold on to that fantasy? We could get dressed, order a pizza, you could finish whatever you were reading - I did just derail your evening plans.”

Stiles smiled as Derek’s face morphed from lust-ridden to dismayed to exasperated before inhaling, composing himself, giving Stiles his most shit-eating grin and saying, “That article was pretty good. We should get - FUCK!” as Stiles took as much of Derek as he could into his mouth, smirking as he did it.

He had experience doing this to a strap on worn by a very domineering yet masterful woman, and we’re not going to share with Derek that Stiles owes Lydia diamonds for those lessons because he might just be good at sucking dick (if the desperate, broken moans, hands gripping the sheets, and occasionally arched back were anything to go on). And he’d only been doing it for a minute or so before he realized that, indeed, he was really - like _really_ \- into sucking dick (and the ways that he could make Derek lose his mind while he did it). He found that Derek responded with wolfish growls when Stiles gave Derek the doe eyes and wide eyed gasps and curses when Stiles went a bit dark. He remembered to keep his hand in motion, keep his cheeks hollowed, and produce plenty of spit.

"I knew you'd - fuck, your mouth. I knew. So good," Derek was gasping and mumbling, head thrown back, hand over his eyes.

Balls. Those were important, so Stiles took Derek into his hand and paid Derek's balls some attention and Derek yelled in surprise and spread his legs obscenely wide and rose up on his elbows with a jerk as Stiles experimented, licking and sucking and then _Derek Hale's testicle was in his mouth_. It was the most surreal, dream-come-true moment of the evening thus far, but it was definitely happening. And Derek was making amazing, whimpering moans, which just spurred Stiles on.

But then Derek’s fingers were scrambling at Stiles’ arm and he said, “Come up here,” in the most broken voice that Stiles had ever heard and he was scrambling up Derek’s body and burying his hands in Derek’s hair while Derek was panting, “How are you so good at that?”

“I could tell you the truth, or you could just believe that I was created to suck your cock,” Stiles mumbled against Derek’s jaw.

“Was it Lydia? Please tell me it was Lydia,” Derek said as Stiles bit his earlobe.

“She’s an educator, what can I say,” Stiles rasped and Derek sniggered.

"I'm giving her stock in my company," Derek said.

"She's already got more money than she can spend. Like ever," Stiles said into Derek's neck.

"I don't care. For her children then," Derek sighed.

"Also, I want to ride you, and she helped make that possible, so I guess she deserves something. I was thinking diamonds," Stiles mumbled into Derek's collarbone. "If you're okay with that."

Stiles rose up to look Derek in the eyes. "Are you okay with that? I could suck you for literally hours, so you have options if you're not ready for that part yet."

Derek looked young again for a moment and then he said, "Are you sure? I've never done that with anyone."

"I've wanted your dick in me since like literally 12 seconds after we met."

Derek smiled brightly, sniggering, "12 seconds? Exactly?"

"Look, I've thought about this a lot, Der, and first my brain had to turn back on and then I had to decide that you were hot and that I was, in fact, totally Bi and would, in fact, let you pin me to a tree. I figure that took about 12 seconds, more or less," Stiles explained.

They smiled at each other for a moment before Derek said, "I didn't expect this to be so much fun."

"Sex should be fun, Der," Stiles said back. "You should like it, everything that we do. But I've been thinking about that, too and I think if I'm supposed to be the person that completes you then that translates to sexy times, too. So we're compatable in the sack and that means amazing sex to come."

"You've been doing a lot of thinking about this," Derek said, running his fingers through Stiles beard.

"Yeah, since literally 12 seconds after I met you," Stiles said with a start as Derek rolled them back over again and started licking his way down Stiles' body. He stopped about midway down and looked up at Stiles and said, "You wanna know what I've been thinking about for years? I think you'll like it."

"Yes, I absolutely do," Stiles answered as Derek started licking again.

Derek's chin was resting where Stiles' leg met his pelvis when he said, "How much I want to bury my tongue in your ass. And then you did that plow yoga thing the other night and nearly killed me."

Stiles was still blinking from Derek's comment when he admitted, "Like I said, I did that shit on purpose. Showin' off my talents."

And then Stiles' knees were practically in his armpits and Derek's face was buried in his ass and Stiles short circuited. The last thing he consciously remembers saying before Derek blew his fucking mind was, "My yoga instructor gets stock, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's [The Plow Pose.](https://www.yogabasics.com/asana/plow/)


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made a soundtrack, because this is Teen Wolf on MTv, and there should be a new song every five minutes, or at least each chapter. It is a work in progress until the story is completed, but there will be a link to the song and a link to the whole song list
> 
> [Amber Run-I Found Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PbSZhGONRBg)
> 
> [Joy Williams-Sweet Love of Mine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zZnG5CDeeWs)
> 
> [Great Bi Awakening Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLoYDiCGS25o3pdlzCcwlwhjDbWDnhs2Bh)

Being rimmed was an entirely new experience for Stiles Stilinski and currently rated up there with Stiles’ favorite experiences to date. Like in his entire life. He’d watched his share of porn (okay, more than his share) and he’d always felt like rolling his eyes when the men in the videos acted like they were losing their minds as their partners went down on them. He’d thought that it was an act.

He was learning that those desperate moans that he’d watched more times than he could count were, in fact, most likely real. Because holy fuck. Just holy fuck, it was  _ so _ good. And if this was what it was like with someone who had absolutely no experience doing this, what would it be like when Derek got good at it?

Stiles HAD done this to Lydia, who had no complaints at all (quite the contrary, actually), but if you think Lydia Martin is going to put her mouth anywhere near someone's asshole you've got another thing coming. 

Derek Hale, however, was currently eating Stiles out like his ass was the greatest thing he'd ever tasted. Sure, he'd started out a bit tentatively, but once he got his bearings he went at Stiles like a man starved. 

It was total, complete bliss. It was so good that it shut down the running commentary in his brain and all he could focus on was Derek's tongue and beard and breath.

Derek stopped for a moment and asked, "Enjoying yourself," with a lovingly amused smile.

"Yes," Stiles squeaked, "Do this forever, please."

He'd lost track of the words and sounds coming out of his mouth a while ago. 

Derek's smile went feral and he growled, “Good,” before diving back in again, jabbing and licking and making everything unrelated to Derek’s tongue and hands skimming his legs and growls disappear.

And then he felt a tentative finger prodding at his opening and he really wasn’t sure how he would live. He’d lived through the blowjob, but Derek fingering him was another matter entirely. It really might kill him.

There was absolutely no way he was going to stop it. If this was the way he was going to go, he’d walk into death willingly.

“Lube, Der, we need lube for fingers. Never enough lube,” Stiles mumbled as Derek continued to try to screw Stiles with his tongue and prod at his hole with his fingers.

Derek pulled away to rummage through the drawer of his bedside table. And he kept rummaging, making dissatisfied grunts, until he was actually pulling everything out of the drawer and tossing it carelessly on the floor and across the room in an attempt to locate the lube that he presumably stored there. The look on his face when he came up empty would have made Stiles laugh in any other circumstance as it was peak GrumpyCat!Derek. At this moment, however, he absolutely agreed with Derek - that is, until he remembered his generous new friend and mentor Jackson Whittemore.

Stiles scrambled out from under Derek and urgently said, “Just hold that thought, okay? I promise I’ll be right back. DO NOT move,” before sprinting out of Derek’s room completely naked (and running into his closed bedroom door when he forgot that doors existed), grabbing the unopened bottle of lube, and working frantically to remove it from the packaging (which got thrown on the floor somewhere in the hallway between his and Derek’s bedrooms) before running back into Derek’s room and jumping back onto his bed with a flying leap.

“I present to you Jackson’s second gift,” he said, throwing the lube at Derek, who caught it with his lightning quick reflexes before examining it with a bemused look on his face.

“He bought you a sex book and lube?” Derek marveled, shaking his head and smiling at the absurdity of it.

“Again, there’s more, but I’m going to keep gift number three a secret until such time as it is needed,” Stiles said, scrambling to resume his position under Derek, pulling his knees back up and holding them back for Derek.

Derek sniggered at Stiles, “Eager?” he snarked.

“I have been waiting over 5 years for this, Derek. What do you think?” Stiles answered.

Derek resumed his previous position and looked Stiles in his eyes, serious for a moment. “I’ve never done this with anyone,” he said.

“You get the logistics, though?” Stiles asked, and Derek nodded. “Yeah, it’s pretty simple. Lots of lube. Like more than you think you need. And then even more. Go slow, be gentle, don’t force anything and add more fingers when you think I’m ready. And I’m pretty sure you’re gonna get a running commentary, so, yeah,” he finished.

And then Derek’s finger was in him to the first knuckle, moving in and out slowly and carefully and Stiles’ head was thrown back, wonton and shameless.

And then Derek was pulling him up so that he could kiss him while he fingered him, and Stiles felt Derek’s finger slide in deeper, drawing a gasp from him.

Then Stiles was slowly grinding himself on Derek’s finger as he held onto Derek, his arm slung around Derek’s neck as Derek continued to watch his face closely, holding onto Stiles’ lower lip with his teeth.

“Bend your finger a little,” Stiles panted, grinding to find that spot, arching his back and narrowly thrusting on Derek’s finger.

Then he was reaching behind himself, slowly working a second finger in alongside Derek’s as Derek’s pupils dilated more and his eyes flashed. He whispered, “Fuck, Stiles. You’re so hot. Look at you.”

The angle left something to be desired so he murmured, “Another. Give me another,” pulling his finger out as Derek started to add another.

Derek’s fingers were thick and bigger than Stiles was used to. But Derek went slow, sensing that Stiles needed time to adjust (or reading it on Stiles’ face, which he hadn’t taken his eyes off of).

There was a shift in the air and immediately everything seemed to become more focused. Derek's gaze went from studying and unsure to determined and hungered and Stiles started to move with purpose, feet flat on the mattress, one arm still around Derek's shoulder, his other hand cupping Derek's cheek. Their breathing came harsher and quicker. 

Derek slipped in a third finger and Stiles keened, his face screwing up in pain and Derek froze.

"Hey, it’s okay," Stiles panted, brushing Derek's cheek. "I'm gonna make all kinds of faces and noises like I'm in a lot of pain, and it'll be okay. It's just a lot at first."

Derek tentatively nodded but he looked unconvinced.

"It's part of it and it goes away. It melts away and then it's so intense. It’s so good, Derek, but there’s pain, and I need it to know if anything happens that shouldn’t so you can’t take it away. And you'll know if you really need to stop with your wolfy senses anyway."

Derek searched Stiles' face again and nodded in determination and Stiles started moving again and leaned back on one hand and he knew he’d found that spot when shocks of electricity shot up his spine and into his legs. He’d gotten to the point that even if he wanted to stop the whimpers and moans that he was making there'd be no way that he could.

Derek watched Stiles’ face the entire time, looking deep in his eyes (when Stiles didn’t have his head thrown back at the sheer delight of riding Derek's fingers, being with Derek, of being kissed and adored by Derek), periodically peppering kisses over Stiles’ Adam’s apple and chest and shoulders, watching rapturously as Stiles’ unashamedly took pleasure from Derek’s fingers. 

"I'm ready," Stiles finally said, and Derek looked completely shattered. “Now, Derek, I want you in me,” he continued to murmur.

Derek laid him down gently and kissed him soundly before looking Stiles in the eyes, taking a cleansing and grounding breath in through his nose and throwing one of Stiles’ legs over his shoulder.

And then he was lining up and pushing in and at first it seemed that it wouldn’t work; Derek didn’t want to hurt Stiles and wasn’t pushing hard enough and he couldn’t breach Stiles. So Stiles reached around and grabbed Derek’s cock and bore down hard and deliberately and then pain lanced through Stiles as Derek finally breached him.

Derek’s eyes went wide with surprise and he said, “Oh my God - oh my God, Stiles. You're so tight and hot.”

“Big, Derek, you’re big. Oh my god, so big. Go slow, I need you to go slow right now,” Stiles panted, his face screwed up from the initial pain.

When Stiles had pictured this moment as a young man, before he’d really gotten to know Derek, he'd thought it would happen after an argument, most likely in a fit of unresolved sexual tension and passion, maybe (hopefully) up against a wall or on the floor. It would be quick and hard and dirty and rock both of their worlds. 

He hadn't known then how soft Derek was, how full of love and caring and compassion he was. He hadn't known how much more amazing the slow, careful, desperately amorous way Derek moved and looked at him would be. He hadn't known that there would be a day when he felt more love for Derek than he ever even knew existed. He hadn't counted on looking into Derek's eyes as he lay below him and seeing Derek completely stripped raw, looking shattered and naked and fileted open. 

It wasn’t like porn, where they pounded each other harder and harder and kept changing positions and looked like they had something to prove to each other. Instead it started glacially slow, with Derek barely moving, taking his cues from Stiles, letting Stiles pull him in deeper and thrust just that little bit harder. They held each other close, clinging to each other, looking in each other’s eyes, running their hands over each other, kissing and breathing in one another, all harsh breaths and whispered exclamations and quiet declarations. And when it finally got to the point that Derek could really move, to that point that if Derek had really wanted to pound Stiles he could, Derek instead continued to hold Stiles, worshipping him, overwhelming him with rasped ‘I love you’s’ and the look of sheer, unbidden tenderness in his eyes. 

When Derek finally made his first strong thrust, Stiles wasn’t prepared for how much more intense it would be and his eyes rolled back in his head and the rest of the world blanked out. And Derek just continued to hold him close, running his open mouth along the curve of Stiles’ jaw and the shell of his ear as he whispered halting, strained words like, “Mine,” and “Yes,” and “Stiles,” said so reverently as if to be a prayer, a whispered liturgy, the answer to everything. This wasn’t just sex, they weren’t fucking, Derek was making love to him and it was more intense than anything Stiles had ever experienced (which is saying a lot, considering Stiles’ life experiences up to that point).

“Please, more, please,” Stiles heard himself begging and Derek rose up onto his forearms and started thrusting harder and faster, his forehead still buried in the bend of Stiles’ neck, harsh breaths leaving his mouth and nose, his teeth nipping and tongue laving at Stiles’ collarbone and shoulder.

Stiles’ orgasm rushed up on him. He could feel it building even before he’d managed to get a hand on himself, and once he had himself in hand, he knew it was going to happen and it was going to happen fast. And Derek’s wolf senses must have picked up on that, because he was now looking at Stiles purposefully, thrusting harder and faster still, looking between where Stiles was working himself furiously and back to his face, brow furrowed, looking like it was imperative that Stiles come, and come now, and come hard.

He heard Derek let out a long, rough, shattered groan as everything seized up and he started to come, shouting out incoherent oaths, unable to think or consciously move as the pleasure spasmed through him, Derek continuing to thrust and lick and pant as he watched Stiles fall apart, determined to drive all of the pleasure out of Stiles that he could.

By the time Stiles came back to himself, Derek was shaking and tense, his nostrils continuously flared, eyes closed hard, thrusts starting to stutter. His face was screwed up as if he were in pain, as if he was nearing the precipice, ready to fall off, desperate to do so. And then he collapsed onto Stiles, still thrusting, whimpering, his body violently spasming as he held tightly to Stiles shoulders and continued to climax, muffling sharp breaths and whimpered cries into Stiles’ neck.

They clung to each other as they came down, too astounded by what had just happened to say anything, too exhausted to move. Stiles felt as if all of his bones had been removed from his body and there was no way that he could possibly be expected to move or think or say anything resembling a rational thought. Derek was the first to move, and when he did he looked Stiles in the eyes, smiled softly, looking more than a little stunned, and then kissed him as if Stiles were the very air that he breathed. Even after that, they continued to stare in awe at each other, to stroke each other’s skin and gently touch lips and fingertips and fall into each other.

Still looking mystified, Derek whispered, “I love you, Stiles. God I love you.”

“I love you, too, Derek,” Stiles whispered back, feeling just as overwhelmed, knowing that the words were inadequate, that he’d never be able to put into words how much he actually loved Derek.

Stiles isn’t sure how long they lay there just holding each other, marveling over one another, tangled up and not wanting to let go. Giving each other soft, brief kisses which turned longer and deeper, the quiet of the night surrounding them. He  _ was _ sure that he’d gladly stay in that spot for as long as Derek would let him, longer if that’s what Derek wanted. Finally, however, Derek rolled partially off of him, slinging his arm around Stiles and pulling him close, so that they lay on their sides, chest to chest, legs and arms entangled.

“Wow,” Stiles finally said, feeling his words were again inadequate, but still so thunderstruck that he was unable to come up with anything else.

Derek smiled lazily and said, “Yeah. That was - yeah,” breathlessly.

Stiles sniggered and smiled back. “Gay sex is awesome,” he declared, continuing, “like, did you have any idea at all that it would be that good? Because I didn’t. I mean, I thought it would be good, but not  _ that _ good.”

“My dad told me one time that when you find your other half, in the beginning, it will feel like there’s no one else in the world. That it might be awkward at first but once it all slides into place it’s amazing,” Derek said, running his fingers along Stiles’ lips tenderly.

“You’re amazing,” Stiles said with all sincerity. “In every way possible. And you’re beautiful and sexy and - you’re everything, Derek. You’re everything. It’s you and it always has been.” 

Stiles wanted to tell Derek that there would never be another person for him. He wanted to tell him that even if they broke up tomorrow (in some tragic and unforeseen type of way) that he’d never find anyone else ever again that could hold a candle to Derek. That he wanted to devote his life to Derek. That he wanted to marry him. But he didn’t, because that seemed a bit much for their first time together. 

Instead, he said, “So now we get to do this all over the loft, right?” 

Derek laughed answering, “I was planning on it."

“This month just got a whole hell of a lot more exciting, didn’t it?” Stiles quipped as he tangled himself in even closer to Derek, nuzzling into his chest.

“How long are you going to need before we can go again?” Derek asked, and Stiles looked back at him in surprise and delight. That was _ his _ sort of line. He was the one that was desperate to sex up Derek forever and endlessly. Except Derek evidently felt the same way, looking at him expectantly and wickedly.

“How long are  _ you _ gonna need, because you’re the one who needs to get it up,” Stiles asked, amending that statement with, “At least, I’m assuming that’s the direction you want to go with this. Unless I’m wrong and you want your turn being sexed up.”

“Eventually,” Derek said, and really, that was all Stiles needed to hear for Little Stiles to want to join into the fun again - except he couldn’t, because he was incapable of such acts at the moment. He continued, “Let’s just keep doing this for a while. This is good.”

“This is mind blowing,” Stiles retorted. “And when you’re ready for that, just let me know. But I have absolutely no complaints bottoming. None at all.”

Derek sniggered and said, “I could tell.”

“I sort of lose myself. Was I talking a lot?”

“No, but you were moaning and wailing and saying incoherent things - and it was loud. You are loud, and it was hot as fuck.”

Stiles smiled. “Good. I’m glad you like that because I don’t have much control over it. I’m not very good at keeping quiet.”

“This is something I already know,” Derek said, looking smug. “and in this case, I want you as loud as possible.”

Stiles looked Derek in the eyes and said, "When we do this, when we kiss and make out and all of it, it's the only time that my mind shuts off. Ever in my whole life."

Derek smiled, looking pleased. "Do you like having your mind shut off?" he asked.

"Yeah, I do. It's like it resets everything and life isn't so overwhelming. Also, I don't know if you know this, but you're a pretty decent lover, absolutely in my top three at least, so I wouldn't mind if this continued. Very frequently and often. Everywhere. Let's stink the place up with sex chemosignals. In all of the rooms and on all of the furniture. Let's gross the other wolves out."

Stiles wasn't expecting the look of fondness mixed with amusement that Derek gave him. "It'll be a new quarantine challenge," Derek said, smiling, looking as if he were forming a plan. "Operation Stink the Place Up. I like it. Also, seriously, Stiles, when can we go again?"

Stiles sniggered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, at the time of publishing, this has 420 kudos, which is blowing my mind. Honestly, even the kudos make me so happy. Thank you all so much.
> 
> Second, thanks to those who are reading my other fics. The Snape and Johnlock fics aren't abandoned, they're just in hibernation for the time being. I think once I finish this I'm going to go back and edit Everyday Chemistry and continue it. There's so much in my head for that one but I'm stuck on Sterek right now. And the Johnlock's next chapter is partially written, I just got a bit overwhelmed with it and also I got some crazy cruel comments so I just said screw it and put it to bed for a while.
> 
> I have an [active Sterek blog](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/fyeahsterek72). Join me!


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If I were naming these (and maybe at some point I will), this chapter would be called Sex-a-thon 2020.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made a soundtrack, because this is Teen Wolf on MTv, and there should be a new song every five minutes, or at least each chapter. It is a work in progress until the story is completed, but there will be a link to the song and a link to the whole song list
> 
> [Matt Corby-Miracle Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NoctQkJUO_4)
> 
> [Great Bi Awakening Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLoYDiCGS25o3pdlzCcwlwhjDbWDnhs2Bh)

The days that followed their first time together turned into a blur of sex and food and sleep and love and lust. Stiles completely forgot that he was a college student and Derek had very few responsibilities now that the crew were furloughed, so they filled their time learning each other's bodies, figuring out what the other liked, and figuring out new ways and places that they could have sex. In later years, Stiles would refer to the halcyon days that followed their first time together as either SPOUT 2020 (which are the re-arranged first letters in Operation Stink the Place Up; Derek got him a t shirt that said "I SURVIVED SPOUT 2020" printed in block letters for their first anniversary) or Sex-a-thon 2020. Stiles and Derek both preferred Sex-a-thon 2020. But SPOUT 2020 was their inside joke about Sex-a-thon 2020, so they used that in public. 

Anyhow, over the next few days to a week (time was nebulous and ever changing during Sex-a-thon 2020, so they actually aren't sure how long they sexed it up), Stiles learned that two young adult males, one of whom is a werewolf, are capable of having a truly staggering amount of sex.

Their next round came pretty shortly after the first, mostly because Derek was so pushy about it and also had a very, very short refractory period (and not at all because Stiles' would screw Derek Hale anywhere, anytime, as the coming days would prove). Stiles finally got to ride Derek, and he did so slowly and carefully and languorously as Derek laid back and watched with a pleased smile. Stiles closed his eyes and threw his head back and ground into Derek as Derek emitted that low, gravely purr, looking at Stiles with rapt ownership, his hands running over Stiles' legs and belly and shoulders covetously. 

Stiles learned that Derek Hale is absolutely, positively insatiable. That once the sex dam had broken, there was no stopping it any time soon. Derek Hale, as it turns out, is a particularly lusty werewolf that had a lot of pent up sexual energy. And there were years of unresolved sexual tension there, too. The result was that they were gonna screw each other silly for days and days and days because what else was there to do? It's a pandemic! It was like doing their part for the greater good, fucking for days on end. They were patriots, God damnit!

The next morning, Stiles woke on his stomach drooling on Derek's bicep. They were completely naked and the duvet they'd initially been under was bunched up at the bottom of the bed, shoved there by Derek at some point in the night when they'd woken at the same time and kissed and frotted on each other, fisting their cocks, hands tangled together while they both moaned loud and lewd and desperate. 

Derek was so warm that Stiles hadn't really needed the covers.

When he snuck out of the bed Derek didn't move at all. Stiles loved how soundly Derek slept now, and how soundly he slept beside Derek.

He was sore everywhere. He felt like he'd just finished his first lacrosse practice of the year, muscles sore in places that never got sore. But he felt good, too, sexy and loose and still a little sex-drunk. 

It would be an awesome time to finally get to use Derek's fancy computer shower.

He had too much fun picking the options, ultimately turning everything on - because why not - and choosing the _romantic moonlight_ light setting because he was feeling sexy.

As Stiles has previously pointed out, Derek Hale smells amazing on most days; Stiles smiled in bliss as he washed himself with Derek's body wash that smelled expensive and probably had amorentia in it, because now all he really wanted to do was suck Derek's cock and run his hands over his abs and lick drops of water off of his triskele. 

He was getting shaggy again - his hair was growing fast these days. Truth be told, he wasn't sold on the beard. It felt weird and when he looked in the mirror the person looking back at him looked like a hipster mountain climber. Or a caveman. He was neither a hipster mountain climber nor a caveman, so it just wasn't him. He actually wanted to shave it all off and start over again. The hair, too. But he wanted to run that by Derek because Derek seemed into the whole mountain man vibe. And it was easier to get dressed in the morning when you looked like a sasquatch. Not much styling required. So that was a plus.

When he opened his eyes from rinsing Derek's sexy smelling shampoo out of his hair and beard, he saw a blur in his periphery. When he focused a bit better he saw Derek in the mirror, standing there just wearing a white t-shirt. No underwear. It was like he'd started to get dressed and then just abandoned the mission entirely. Also, it was hella sexy.

Derek was staring at Stiles, the look on his face intense and a little wild. He seemed frozen in place, just staring. Stiles realized in that moment, looking into Derek's wild eyes, that it was the day of the full moon. 

It was the day of the full moon, and Derek already looked like a wild animal. They'd timed this whole thing very, very well indeed. 

Stiles felt a bit like a rabbit caught in a snare, nowhere to go, awaiting its fate. He smirked. He  _ wanted _ to be eaten alive by Derek Hale. It was one of his truest, deepest life ambitions. And it was about to happen.

Stiles walked to the foggy glass door carefully, keeping eye contact with Derek in the mirror, Derek tracking him like a predator. Stiles wrote "GET ME" on the foggy glass with his finger and then backed up to the back wall of the shower, waiting with bated breath as Derek started to stalk toward the shower door, a dark smile on his lips.

Derek opened the door and just stood there, never breaking eye contact with Stiles. Stiles was suddenly aware that he was desperately, uncomfortably hard. Derek stalked into the shower, through the rain shower, white t-shirt and all, and crowded Stiles into the corner.

"You should close the door," Stiles said.

"Fuck the door. I have towels," Derek answered. 

Stiles was digging the whole macho werewolf thing that was happening with Derek. A whole hell of a lot.

Derek continued to stare into Stiles eyes and then finally - finally - he brought his hands to Stiles' sides, holding him tightly.

"When you walked into the loft that first time, after you'd broken up with Lydia, looking -" Derek rasped brushing Stiles' beard, "with the beard and the long hair - I realized - finally - that you were a man. You were a man, not the teenager that you had been. That I could finally have you. You carried yourself differently, you walked with more confidence, you seemed more centered. 

"I just - I wanted you last summer. So much. And then you walked into my loft looking like this," he looked up and down Stiles' body. "I knew I was fucked right then and there."

Derek ran his hand up Stiles' face raking his fingers through Stiles' beard and put his index finger in Stiles mouth. 

"And your fucking mouth, Stiles," Derek whispered, staring at Stiles’ mouth as Stiles sucked on his finger. "I want to do so many filthy things to your mouth. Your lips should be illegal. I have dreams about these lips, I close my eyes and they're all I see."

Stiles might just die right there, immediately, because  _ Jesus Christ _ .

"Do it," Stiles moaned. Jesus, he was wrecked and nothing had really happened yet.

Derek pushed him down onto his knees and Derek's half hard, glorious cock was right there. 

Stiles loved Derek's delicious, magical cock.

Derek still had his thumb in the corner of Stiles' mouth and he was pushing his dick in, too, and it was so fucking sexy and Stiles was so turned on that, for just a moment, just like some horny middle school kid, he thought he was going to come right then and there, no stimulation needed. It just rushed up on him, taking him by surprise. The only thing he could feel was his cock and he realized that he was bucking into nothing and Derek was growling a low rumbly growl and looking down at him with bright blue, dangerous eyes and it took everything that Stiles had in him not to completely embarrass himself right then and there.

The only thing he cared about was worshipping Derek's cock. So he did, or he did the best that he could because somewhere along the line Derek had grabbed Stiles' hands and had them pinned above his head. And he was slowly pumping just the tip of his cock into Stiles' mouth, watching rapt. It was indecent how sexy it all was.

Everything popped into immediate, sharp focus. Stiles could hear the water off to the side hitting the tiles more sharply than before. He could feel his head and feet and ass backed up against the wet tiles. He could feel Derek squeezing his wrists just a bit too tightly, could feel Derek holding back, his muscles tensed, twitching.

Stiles moaned low and loud, wanton. 

Derek sighed, "Fuck Stiles, so fucking sexy. I'm gonna fuck you all day, gonna use you so good. Is that what you want?"

Stiles did his best to convey the fact that yes, God yes he wanted Derek to use him. 

Derek was pumping a little deeper and a little faster. Stiles focused on breathing and sucking and how fucking hard his dick was and the feel and taste of Derek in his mouth. Derek grabbed both of Stiles' wrists with one hand and brought his other hand to the back of Stiles' head and tangled his fingers in Stiles' hair and pulled and then held Stiles in place while he pumped and circled his hips lasciviously and groaned and cursed.

So, Stiles was into this. Very much so. Like 100% down with this. Derek could do this all day long and it wouldn't be long enough. He loved sucking Derek's dick and he loved Derek fucking his face.

He looked up - because conveniently, this corner was both heated and water free - and Derek was looking down at him. His brow was scrunched up and when Stiles made eye contact Derek closed his eyes and threw his head back and a broken sob came out. 

And then Stiles noticed the t-shirt.

The wet tee that was plastered to Derek's chest, molded to his six pack, black hair around his cock jutting out from the bottom. It was the hottest thing Stiles had ever seen. 

Stiles let out the sluttiest sound imaginable. He didn't plan it that way, but he'd watched plenty of porn in his day and he knew a slutty sound when he heard one. 

He smiled around Derek's cock when he heard Derek whisper, "Fuck." Derek pumped a few more times, more slowly and sensually, and whispered, "You want my cock so much," like it awed him and Stiles moaned that yes, he would possibly, in this moment, die for Derek Hale's cock. 

He was a cockslut. For Derek Hale. Jesus fucking Christ, what was his life?!

Derek slowly removed himself from Stiles' mouth and Stiles whined - he whined! Like he was some fanfiction cliche! But he wanted Derek's amazing cock back and he wanted it now!

Derek looked down at him and smiled. He let go of Stiles hands and Stiles immediately put them on Derek's stomach.

"You have no idea what you look like right now, with this shirt and your fucking abs," he said, his voice low and rough.

"You sound like sex. Everything about you is like sex," Derek replied.

"I want to eat your abs. Or lick you from head to toe. I want to frame this t-shirt."

"You asked me why my shower was so big. It's so that I could do this in it. Fuck you against the wall and on the bench and against the glass. I would touch myself right here, in this corner, imagining your lips around my cock," Derek said, still looking imperiously down at Stiles.

"Wait," Stiles insisted, looking up at Derek incredulously. “Did you design this entire shower for fucking? And for fucking me specifically?”

Derek suddenly looked everywhere but Stiles’ face.

“Oh my god! You did! You designed this entire shower paradise to fuck me in! Not only is it a shower paradise, it is a  _ sex _ shower paradise. A Stiles, sex shower paradise! No wonder you’ve been so blushy every time I’ve brought it up! Derek Hale is a horny,  _ horny _ wolf!”

‘I did not blush when you talked about my shower,” Derek insisted, scowling.

“You so did! You are so adorable, especially when you blush, which you did every time I brought up this bathroom," Stiles said, relishing for a moment in the knowledge that he was being sexed up in the shower that Derek had designed to sex him up in. “So, Derek,” he said, dropping his voice and laying on his newly discovered sexy beast. Derek was looking in his eyes again, laser sharp focus, nostrils flaring. “You imagined fucking my face? Did it feel good to finally do it?”

Derek slowly nodded his head ‘yes,’ still staring into Stiles’ eyes.

“What else did you imagine? Did you imagine bending me over and fucking me? Holding me against the wall while you fucked me? Or maybe you imagined me fucking you, pressed up against the glass while I made you watch, made you see how gorgeous you are, made you cry at how good it felt to be fucked. Have you ever played with your ass while you thought about me?"

Derek's eyes darkened and he shook his head 'yes' minutely. He was breathing heavily, his muscles tense, like he was holding himself back. He looked like a predator going in for the kill.

"What else did you design this shower to do?" he said, baiting Derek. "Because I think you need to do it all to me."

Derek growled his sexy, werewolf 'yes' growl.

"So when are you gonna do it?" Stiles taunted.

"You're impatient, Stiles," Derek stated, his voice rough.

“Tell me something I -” Stiles started, but before he could get the rest of the words out he was being pulled up and backed into Derek's jacking off corner, and then Derek was crowding him against the wall and grabbing his chin and bringing their lips together and they were kissing like they wanted to inhale each other. It was raw and manly and slightly aggressive and then - holy fuck, _ and then _ \- Dereks leg was in between his and he was rutting against Stiles and if Stiles had forgotten how close he was to coming moments before he remembered it now because  _ Holy Fuck _ . 

"Fuck, Derek! Fuck, FUCK! I - You're gonna make me come," he cried.

"So do it," Derek growled, eye to eye with Stiles, blue eyes blazing, ordering him with his glare.

It happened in slow motion, the sound of the water hitting the tiles, Stiles panting into Derek's mouth as Derek continued to suck on Stiles mouth and tongue and rut up against his cock, which Stiles thought might be on fire at this point, but it was so sweet, and then, just like that, pleasure shot up his spine and down his legs and he came, a shout turned to a sob, so hard that had Derek not been crowding him he would have collapsed, folded over upon himself, spurting once, twice, and then again even harder. He came so hard that he had to push Derek away from his cock, which had become so sensitive he felt desperate to get Derek away from it, but also felt so fucking good that he wanted more, more, more.

Derek held him in the aftershocks, kissing his scalp and murmuring about how beautiful and sexy Stiles was into his ear and placing his hands on the sides of Stiles' face and looking at him like he was everything.

"I love you, Stiles," Derek said, quiet and vulnerable and awestruck.

"Unh," Stiles answered, which was meant to be, "I love you too, and please don't let me go because my legs don't work yet."

Derek's eyes went all sexy again and he leaned into Stiles' ear and growled, "Do you want more?" chuckling darkly when Stiles shook his head 'yes' desperately.

He managed to maneuver Stiles over to the seat and when Stiles went to sit on it Derek shook his head 'no' and turned Stiles around and pushed him to his knees again so that his chest and head were lying on the seat, his head on the rolled up towel. Derek leaned over Stiles and produced a bottle of lube from behind the jumble of shampoo and body wash in the corner of the alcove.

"You keep lube in your shower? You had none by your bed but you do in your shower?" Stiles asked incredulously.

"Makes jacking off in the corner thinking of fucking your face much nicer," Derek stated sexily and matter-of-factly.

"Okay," Stiles squeaked out, because Derek had dropped to his knees and in one deliciously manly moment he positioned Stiles up so that his back curved with his ass high in the air, pulled his cheeks apart, and buried his face in Stiles' hole. 

Stiles screamed, "Jesus, fuck Derek! Fuck - oh god, please, fuck!" He was still so sensitive from all his previous orgasms and all the sex that he didn't know if he wanted Derek to stop or keep going, so he just collapsed into the towel and started to babble nonsense. Derek licked flat stripes over his hole and stabbed in with his tongue and ran his teeth over him and Stiles could feel Derek's facial hair scratching and his own fingers scrambling for something to hold onto and he could hear himself start to make little choked off sobs into the towel.

"I want - I want to die like this," he managed to choke out, making Derek chuckle darkly before he started running his thumb lightly over Stiles perineum.

"You're a sex god, the god of all things sex," Stiles moaned out and Derek pushed his thumb harder into Stiles. 

"I've imagined fucking you for so long," Derek commented quickly before diving back in again and sucking on his hole, his thumb following, pushing against Stiles' entrance. "Also, burying my tongue in your ass."

"Yes, you've mentioned that. Please never stop. Never, never stop. Let's never leave this shower. Good, amazing sex shower," Stiles cried. He hoped Derek understood that he truly meant it. He would live here, right here, on his knees, forever.

"Mmmm," Derek replied at the same time his thumb breached Stiles' hole and he licked circles around it. Then he pulled his mouth away long enough to squeeze a large messy dollop of lube onto Stiles' hole.

Derek laid his head on Stiles ass while he slowly pushed his thumb in all the way once, twice. He then switched to his index finger and leisurely pumped it in and out while peppering kisses over Stiles lower back and ass. 

Derek Hale is a quick learner. He was already a rimming and prep expert, damn him.

Then, in a moment Stiles could only call masterful, Derek grabbed Stiles' cock with his other hand and pulled it backwards between Stiles' legs, pumped it a few times, and started sucking. Stiles grabbed onto the towel and he buried his face into it and started to whimper. 

Damn Derek Hale and his sexy, sexy ways.

"How? Where did you?" Stiles was babbling, not really knowing what he was trying to say.

Derek pulled off of his cock with a pop, said, "Porn" and then pushed a second finger into Stiles.

Stiles prayed a prayer of thanksgiving to the porn gods and realized he was saying 'thank you thank you thank you' over and over again. When Derek worked a third finger into him and very deliberately stroked his prostate (Derek already knew exactly where that was, too, the fucker), Stiles went completely still and his eyes rolled back before he started sobbing into the towel. One hand had reached back and was gripping Derek's hair to hold his head in place, to keep Derek sucking his cock, the other gripped the towel desperately. His whole body was taut and he was pushing his ass back onto Derek's fingers and trying to get Derek to take his cock deeper.

Derek stopped licking and pulled out his fingers and grabbed the lube again, squirting out another dollop.

Stiles twisted to watch as Derek got into place behind him, sliding his cock up and down Stiles' crack, against Stiles' hole, holding it there, getting it messy with lube. He started to lose patience when Derek looked into his eyes and just kept frotting against him, his expression hard and focused. When he started watching his cock again, Stiles whined, "Fuck, Derek! Put it in me!"

Derek looked back at him and smirked and kept rubbing.

"What, do you want me to beg?" Stiles challenged. He was vibrating with need. He could feel it everywhere. "Okay, I will fucking beg. I have no pride! I want your cock, Derek! Put your cock in me, please! Please, fuck me, Derek!"

Derek smiled wolfishly, still grinding into Stiles' backside. "Since you asked so nicely, I'll think about it," he said.

"Wha - you'll think about it?" Stiles exclaimed. He was going to go out of his mind! He just wanted that big, fat cock in him so goddamn much. More than anything, ever.

And he was thankfully talking again because apparently it was the push that Derek needed. He could feel him lining up, pushing, squeezing Stiles' ass cheek (there were going to be bruises), and then - fuck, there it was.

"Slow," he said, pushing back on Derek's thigh.

"Yeah," Derek said, husky and ragged.

He started pumping his hips slowly and gently. Stiles buried his face in the towel again, pushing back carefully.

There weren't a lot of words after that. At some point, the entire world became Derek’s cock inside of him, Derek holding him from behind, his body molded to Stiles’, Derek’s lips and teeth on the nape of his neck and back, Derek’s hands squeezing and touching and stroking, Derek’s pants and moans and exclamations in his ear.

And then Derek stood for a second and, as Stiles looked on blearily, he put one foot on the bench and one on the floor and he mounted Stiles. There was really no other word for it. There was a hand tangled into Stiles' hair, not really pulling, just holding, grounding Stiles.

Derek leaned over and growled into Stiles' ear, "Do you want me to fuck you?" as Stiles desperately nodded yes, yes, please please yes.

"Make me your bitch, Derek, do it," Stiles rasped in a sudden moment of divine inspiration, and, if possible, Derek's eyes went even darker as he penetrated Stiles, watching mesmerized as he thrust in and out.

Every couple of thrusts he'd go a little harder, faster, and then he'd do something ridiculously sexy like slow down and bottom out, grinding into Stiles while he moaned long and loud or suck hard on the bend of Stiles' shoulder until it was purple and bruised.

Stiles melted underneath him. He'd already had so many orgasms that his entire body was overly sensitive, the only thing he heard was the water hitting the tiles and Derek's harsh exhales, the only thing he knew were the electric shocks of Derek pounding on his prostate. He was between whimpering and crying and he wanted to touch his cock, because it was so god damned hard again but when he took his cock in hand Derek took over for him with a low growl.

"This what you wanted?" Derek panted out, adding, "This isn't as hard as I can go. Do you want more?"

Of course Stiles said, "Yes!". Of course he did. What else was he going to say?

It was a blur of pleasure and grunts and cries and lips and Derek's hands and cock after that. Coming was a delicious mix of pleasure with just a bit of pain after which Stiles' went completely pliant. And Derek just kept fucking him.

It was bliss. Total, complete, mind-erasing bliss.

And then there was a towel around him and he was being picked up and carried back to the bed and Derek was looking down at him with a contented smile which Stiles tried to return but most likely didn't. He was simply too fucked out to do much of anything.

He must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew he was waking up on clean sheets (the sheets from last night might have to be burned, they were so disgusting), a glass of water beside him and a Post-It that said, 'Making Breakfast, Drink all of This.'

Derek had fucked him so thoroughly that he had slept through him changing the sheets. Derek was a sex god. That was all there was to it.

And that was how the days went. They ate and had sex and then had more sex. Derek fucked him over the back of the couch, leaning on the kitchen island and dining table, and pretty much everywhere that it was possible to fuck. The gave each other hand jobs and blow jobs and frotted and kissed and made out and fell into a haze of sex and love and lust, losing track of time. They'd look at the window and suddenly it was evening and then all of the sudden it was day.

Derek was creative, too, and in the most sinful ways possible. One day he brought the Stilinski toy chest (which he'd sniffed out and was actually a duffle bag) into the living room, rifled through it smiling wickedly, pulled out Stiles' Bad Dragon dildo (which was hot pink and lupine), suctioned it to a dining room chair, gave Stiles some lube, and said, "Ride it. Show me how you do it. Go slow." Derek sat in a chair opposite Stiles, watched him, and lazily jacked off. Then Derek decided that Stiles needed a cock in his mouth, too, so he stood and growled, "Suck me." 

Derek's brand of creativity ruled.

After receiving Stiles' sex video from Lydia, they watched it together while jacking off and then Derek informed Stiles that he wanted Stiles to edge him the same way he'd been edged in the video. Stiles said a prayer of Thanksgiving to Lydia Martin, cupped Derek's chin, looked him levely in the eyes and instructed Derek that it would only work if he was a very good boy for Stiles and kept his hands by his sides and only came when Stiles told him to. Derek's pupils dilated and his breath quickened and he ardently promised Stiles that he would try his very best. When Stiles finally let him come, Derek cried out so loudly that it was probably a good thing that the rest of the building was empty. Afterwards, Stiles' wrapped him in a blanket and cuddled him until he quit shaking and came back to himself (while feeling more than a little pleased that he'd gotten Derek to the point that he needed cuddling and aftercare).

Did Stiles mention already that Derek was a horny, irresistible, brilliant sex god? Because he absolutely, positively was.

They still had some responsibilities. The dog had to be walked. Delphina was quite polite when she asked to go out because she knew that her people were mating and she liked that her people were bonding. The only time that they bothered to put on clothes was to walk Delphina, although she didn't really understand the purpose of clothing and thought they could do without. Derek tended to agree. As a result, by the third day of Sex-a-thon 2020 they quit putting clothing on entirely (except to walk the dog), opting to wrap themselves up in sheets and blankets when they wanted to be cozy. This also meant that Stiles got to watch naked Derek pouring them bowls of cereal and climbing the stairs and just majestically moving and living in all of his naked, chiseled, perfect glory.

There were moments when Stiles wondered when everything was going to implode on them because everything was going so well and things didn't usually work out well for either one of them. He counted his fingers more times than he would like to admit and opened books just to see if he could read the words, because his life was too good to be true. It was true, though, and it was all real, and Stiles found himself believing that life might actually be just this: Derek and him in love with each other, Derek and him living together, the two of them against a much easier to live in world, one where monsters and hunters and other big bads stayed away from Beacon Hills and the pack didn't have to worry anymore. 

They say all good things have to come to an end, and the same is true of Sex-a-thon 2020. What neither one of them could have predicted was that it would be Chris Argent who would come, barging into the loft, to break it up.

Stupid Chris Argent. He was a perpetual cock block, Chris Argent was.

Neither one of them knew what day it was when someone started banging on the loft door and wouldn’t leave no matter how long they ignored it. Derek, who was leaning against the kitchen island, Stiles in between his legs while Stiles licked his balls, scowled, looked down at Stiles, squeezed his eyes shut, scowled again, and finally said, “It’s Chris. They wouldn’t have sent him unless they really needed us. Go upstairs and put some clothes on. I’ll see what he wants.”

When Stiles got back downstairs, Chris was muttering about how the loft smelled like a whorehouse, opening windows to air the place out.

“Maybe Derek wants to preserve the  _ eau de sexe _ , Chris,” Stiles said while walking down the steps as Chris crankily looked around the (destroyed from all of the sex) living room, not disguising his disgust.

Chris gave Stiles one of his patented shut-the-fuck-up smiles and said, “The pack has been trying to get hold of you for days. All hell is breaking loose and your father and Alan Deaton and Scott all insisted that they need _ you _ , Stiles. I was the only one stupid enough to come and get you.”

Derek was smirking. It was likely that the pack knew exactly what they’d been up to over the last couple days, what with their almost telepathic bond. Of course they didn’t want to come into a werewolf’s den as he was claiming his mate. It was practically suicidal. But, as already established, Chris was a world class cock block, and also a huge asshole at times, so of course he wouldn’t mind breaking up the party.

“What’s happening?” Derek asked.

“You’ve been ignoring your phones, I see,” Chris sighed, looking disappointed.

“Yes, Chris, we’ve been having sex for days because it’s been five years in the making and we’ve got lots of time to make up for. I don’t even know where my phone is. Why would I even care when I was finally getting Derek’s cock -”

“I don’t want to know,” Chris said, cutting Stiles off.

“That’s rich coming from the man who drove Scott out of his home with all of the crazy, loud, destructive sex you’re having with his mom,” Stiles snarked, smiling as Chris finally looked a little contrite.

“You’re loud, Chris. Very, very loud,” Derek agreed,

“When did you hear us?” Chris challenged Derek.

Derek smirked, looked at Stiles and said, “I bake cookies sometimes for the patients on the dementia unit.”

“You do?” Stiles said, suddenly overcome by how sweet and amazing Derek was. “You are a treasure, Derek Hale, an absolute treasure. You  _ bake cookies _ for  _ patients _ with  _ dementia _ ?! How in the world did people think you were dangerous? You are wonderful, Derek,” he marveled, advancing on Derek.

Derek growled at Stiles and said, “I  _ am _ dangerous, Stiles,” with a teethy, wolfy, ridiculously sexy grin, and Stiles couldn’t help but whimper.

“STOP!” Chris yelled, stopping both Stiles and Derek in their lusty tracks. “You can continue - this - later.”

“Nope, I want to hear Derek’s story,” Stiles said, giving Chris his best shit-eating grin. It wasn’t often that he got to make Chris Argent squirm and he wasn’t letting this opportunity pass him by.

Derek continued to smile as he looked at Chris and said, “Beacon General, second floor, med-surg unit supply closet. You were both trying to be quiet, but you weren’t very successful. You’re lucky none of Melissa’s co-workers were around. She could have been written up. She’s the best nurse they have, Chris.”

Chris was frowning, but he was also clearly embarrassed, and it was the best thing Stiles had seen in a long time. Chris took a deep, cleansing breath through his nose, and then wrinkled it (the loft must have been especially ripe; Operation Stink the Place Up was a roaring success).

“Derek, I’m sending you coordinates. Your father and Deputy Parrish are currently waiting there. There’s been an - incident. The EPA are in town investigating the sudden death of hundreds, if not thousands, of birds, reptiles, mammals, and insects in the Preserve. Everything within a three-quarter mile radius is dead. Including the trees - everything. It’s all dead.”

Stiles felt like ice had been poured over his head and injected directly into his veins. “Does it happen to smell like sulphur in the area?” he asked.

Chris looked sideways at Stiles, giving him the ‘how did you know that’ look. “It does, at the epicenter.”

“Is Lydia okay?” Stiles asked.

“Yes, why wouldn’t she be?” Chris asked.

“Do you know about the thing her mom saw?”

“You think it’s related?”

“Sulphur and dead things and a creature that first appeared where a banshee is in residence? Seems plausible.”

“Well, at any rate, they think you’ll know something. And we would - really appreciate it - if you could come and take a look,” Chris said, seeming pained that he actually needed Stiles’ expertise.

“That’s all you needed to say, hot stuff,” Stiles said, finger gunning Chris. Derek growled.

“For god's sake, Derek, he’s not going to jump me, he’s just being a little shit. Put your claws away,” Chris said in irritation.

“Is it just me, or are you perpetually irritated?” Stiles asked Chris.

Chris snorted. “We’ll meet you there,” he answered, walking toward the door.

“Love you, too, Mr. Argent!” Stiles said, just to be as annoying as he could be. “Oh! You know Melissa is like a mom to me. Can I call you Dad?”

Chris stopped walking for a moment and took another cleansing breath before starting to walk again and leaving the loft.

When the elevator started, Stiles turned to Derek, who was scowling, and said, “You’re the one who said that he’s striking, Derek.”

Derek still needed to get dressed. He’d spoken to Chris with a sheet wrapped around him. As he walked by Stiles to go put on some clothes he leaned into his ear and growled, “When we get back, I’m going to make you forget that Chris Argent exists.”

“That better be a promise,” Stiles replied, and Derek grabbed him and they fell to the floor kissing.

A phone rang somewhere. Derek sighed. He stood up (he was naked again, as he should always be), fished Stiles’ phone out from behind the cushions on the sofa, and handed it to him.

When he answered it, Chris said, “Quit having sex. Get your asses to the Preserve. And I’m going to call you again in five to make sure you’re on the road.”

“There are times that I really don’t like you,” Stiles said before hanging up.

He then turned to Derek and said with remorse, “Thus marks the end of Sex-a-thon 2020.”

Derek smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an [ active Sterek blog](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fyeahsterek72); updates are published there. Come join me!


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we find out what happened with the rest of the pack during Sex-a-thon 2020 and Derek is Stiles' anchor.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING for PTSD and panic attacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, kids, my family and quite a few of my friends have caught COVID. I have post-COVID syndrome, or at least that's the working diagnosis. The fatigue and constant achiness, combined with COVID toes and nausea, haven't been the most fun, but I'm just one of thousands dealing with this.
> 
> Just from a historical standpoint, the Capital Insurrection happened and Trump is a twice Impeached president.
> 
> Living through history is rough.
> 
> Anyhoo, I'm back, and the story goes on!
> 
> I've made a soundtrack, because this is Teen Wolf on MTv, and there should be a new song every five minutes, or at least each chapter. It is a work in progress until the story is completed, but there will be a link to the song and a link to the whole song list
> 
> [Death Cab for Cutie - I Will Follow You into the Dark](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3iV_1ESMHaI)
> 
> [Great Bi Awakening Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLoYDiCGS25o3pdlzCcwlwhjDbWDnhs2Bh)

Always true to his word, Chris Argent called Stiles exactly five minutes later.

"We're in the elevator," Stiles said as he answered the phone.

"Take the Jeep. The area that we're meeting you at hasn't been processed by the EPA. Have Derek drive. There's roadblocks but not if you know the back roads well. I threw some Vicks Vapo-Rub in the Jeep; put it under your noses. This happened four days ago and the smell from the decay, combined with the sulphur - you'll want it."

As Chris was speaking, Derek was thumbing through his phone. His brow wrinkled as he said, "Stiles, I have 45 missed calls."

"Can I just interrupt you for a moment, Mr. Argent -," Stiles started to ask.

"Chris, call me Chris,” Mr. Argent insisted.

"Really?" Stiles answered, incredulous. It was weird calling adults by their first name.

"Don’t read too much into it. You're an adult. We're colleagues. Call me Chris."

"Right, okay, _Chris_ ," Stiles said, wincing, "What day is it, exactly?"

Chris let out a chortle. "You don't know what day it is?" he laughed, sounding similarly annoyed and amused. "It's Tuesday."

"Derek! We had sex for six days! That has to be some sort of record," Stiles told Derek with mixed delight and pride.

"What the. . ," Derek said, reading his texts. "Jackson is Malia's twin brother?"

"What?" Stiles said to Derek incredulously.

"Yes," Chris said into Stiles' ear as they got into the Jeep and Derek plugged in his phone. "Would you like the rundown?"

"There's a rundown?" Stiles asked, not liking the sound of that at all.

Chris snorted again. "Is Derek listening because I'm only doing this once.”

Derek nodded, brow wrinkled and frowning in Derek-concentration, listening to what Chris was saying. “Yeah, he’s listening,” Stiles answered.

"First and foremost, two days ago some hikers came across what looked to be a few dead birds. The further they went into the forest, however, the more dead animals they found. They also noticed that the ground plants looked withered and then when they looked closer they realized that the ground was covered with dead insects. They called the county extension office, who investigated and called the police station. We all knew - your father, Deputy Parrish, Alan, Scott, and I - that this wasn’t what you would call a normal environmental event. An epicenter was identified - the smell of sulphur is the greatest there - and there is an approximately 5 foot circular area of black ground and advanced decay, more than would be normal if the event happened this week. Also, and I know that this isn’t much to go on, but the entire three-quarter mile area doesn’t feel right - it made me feel unsettled and it was eerily silent. Parrish said that it feels ‘other,’ whatever that means. The county extension office also took it upon themselves to call the EPA; Alan Deaton has been dealing with them, along with the head of the extension office. We obviously believe this to be an event of supernatural concern and would like your input. That’s the first thing.”

Chris took a deep breath in and then said, “As for the pack, Malia found records in her adoptive father’s house that she had a birth brother - a twin. She went to Peter; apparently Peter’s suspected that Jackson was his son for a while but he - and I’m quoting, ‘didn't want to rock the boat.’ He also said that he had concerns about Jackson’s mental state and his reaction if he told him. He said that Jackson has been doing well and he didn’t want to change that. So he kept it a secret.”

Stiles snorted this time. “Peter not wanting to rock the boat. That’s rich. So they had a test done or something?” Stiles asked, still not believing what he was hearing.

“Peter had an expedited paternity test run. Congratulations, Derek, you’ve got another cousin,” Chris said sarcastically. 

Derek chortled.

Chris continued, “Cory and Liam are back in town. They're at the Frat house with Isaac and Mason. Cora is also here, she's with Boyd and Erica until, and I quote, ‘the rutting smell in the loft dissipates.'”

“Who said she could stay at the loft anyway,” Stiles snarked, and Derek smiled. “I'm kidding, sorry, continue,”

Chris sighed. “Deputy Parrish and Lydia are 'totes married' according to Erica's Instagram, Kira had her baby -”

“Kira had her baby!” Stiles exclaimed, continuing, “What did she have? What did she name it? Is it okay? Why didn't anyone come get us and tell us? This is big news!”

Derek nodded his head in agreement, his smile just the slightest bit wistful at the mention of Kira’s baby.

“You wouldn't have been allowed in the hospital due to COVID, no one but patients are even being let in the door. Kira wasn’t even allowed to have Adam with her, but she said that the hospital had a doula who helped her with the delivery.” Chris explained. “It's a boy, Daniel after his grandfather, 7 pounds, 8 ounces and healthy with all of his fingers and toes.”

“Aww! Kira had her baby! It's the second pack wolflet,” Stiles sighed.

“They're cubs, Stiles,” Derek said.

“I know, Derek, and the baby would be a kit anyway, since Kira is a kitsune and a fox.”

Chris spoke again, breaking Stiles’ train of thought. “Scott went to the loft to tell you that Kira had delivered and all he would say about the experience was, ‘The noises. The smells. I can't get it out of my head.’”

“We didn’t even know he was here. Scottie McCall, so angelic,” Stiles said.

Chris barked. “Yes. We all know how ‘angelic’ Scott McCall is,” he commented sarcastically.

There was a silence and then Chris coughed and said much more quietly, “Melissa has moved out of my apartment.”

“Oh my God! And I - oh my God,” Stiles said, knowing that his mouth had once again gotten him into trouble. “I am so sorry about what I said back at the loft . . .”

“You didn't know. The 'can I call you dad' line was a nice touch, though. Really ground the salt into the wound.” He stopped a moment, as if contemplating what to say next and then said, “Since her house is being rented out she has moved into your old bedroom. So she’s currently living with your father and Claire. I also suspect that your father, Claire, and Melissa are - more than roommates.” 

What?? What!!

“Wow. Right. Wow.” Stiles said. Because how was he supposed to respond to something like that. About his dad? And his dad’s sex life. With TWO women. “That's - a lot to unpack,” he said.

“Yes, it is.”

“I don't know what to say now.” Of course there were thousands of unwanted thoughts going through his mind, like: Really? Also, finally! Mommy Melissa and his dad! Scott will be so happy and will finally be his real bro! And also, if it’s true, his dad is a freakin’ stud. And a freakin’ freak.

Stilinski men. What can you say?

“That's the standard response,” Chris said, his voice now tinged with resignation.

Stiles didn’t know what to say, and awkward silences were never his thing, so he looked at Derek with ‘help me’ eyes. Derek took the phone with an eye roll and a sign, like he had been done with this conversation hours ago. Derek was at maximum Crabby!Wolf, and it made Stiles smile.

“Have you spoken to Noah?” Derek said to Chris. Stiles couldn’t hear Chris answering.

“Well, you need to hear his side of this,” Derek continued, looking like he’d had entirely enough already, and they hadn’t even gotten to the problem at hand. “He’s a good man, Chris, and I can’t see Melissa - if what you say is true, it happened pretty quickly.”

There was a pause, during which Derek rolled his eyes, sighed, and finally said, “For God's sake, I'll talk to him. This pack is like living in a soap opera,” in frustration.

“Or a supernatural teen drama,” Stiles commented.

Derek grunted as he considered this. “Kinda gory for something on broadcast TV.”

“HBO?”

“They don't do teen dramas,” Derek pointed out.

Derek started listening to the phone again, saying to Chris, “Yeah, sorry, I’m here,” and then to Stiles, “Stiles, call Dr Deaton,” and then to Chris again, “Chris, I will speak to Noah.”

Derek hung up the phone, looking more and more irritated.

“We have six days of sex and the world falls apart, Derek,” Stiles sighed. “The pack can't function without us.”

Derek grunted in agreement, wrinkled his nose, and said, “Gimme that Vicks. I can smell it.”

Stiles smeared a bit of Vicks under Derek’s nose, tongue between his lips with concentration.

It was as he was putting the ointment under his own nose that he started to feel it: it prickled at Stiles' skin, the feeling of something familiar, something unpleasant, something that any reasonable person would run away from, not drive directly into. For a moment, he had the overwhelming urge to jump out of the car, crash it, anything to keep them away from where they were going. He felt panicked and cold. He didn’t know if he could do this.

Derek pulled the Jeep over, leaving the ignition running. “What's wrong?” he asked Stiles.

“I don't - my Spidey Senses really don't like whatever we're headed into.” Stiles said, feeling like he was crawling out of his skin, suppressing the urge to jump out of the Jeep and run back in the direction they had come from. “Whatever this is, it’s not good, Der.”

“Let's call Deaton,” Derek said, taking hold of Stiles’ hand and squeezing. “We won’t go any closer until we talk to him. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Let’s call the purposefully cryptic man and see if he can shed light on things,” Stiles said, knowing that Deaton was probably their best source of info no matter how cryptic he could be.

Derek handed Stiles his cell, which he’d already dialed Deaton on.

When he answered, Dr. Deaton sounded relieved, “Stiles. You’ve resurfaced, I see,” he said when he answered.

“No thanks to Chris Argent,” Stiles complained.

Stiles heard movement and other voices in the background. “Give me a moment to find somewhere a bit more quiet,” Deaton said, and then his end was muffled as he spoke to someone for a moment. About 30 seconds later, Deaton spoke again, “You have no idea what it is like to deal with the EPA. It has been a long, arduous process, to say the least. What do you know?”

“Not much,” Stiles answered. Derek had slung his arm around Stiles’ shoulders and was pulling him into his side. Stiles continued, “Everything dead, ¾ mile radius. Sulphur smell. Lydia's okay.”

“As is Deputy Parrish,” Dr. Deaton commented.

“What does the EPA think?” Stiles asked.

“Illegal dumping, although what they think would cause this is yet to be determined. This is not illegal dumping.”

“Yeah, no shit, but what is it?” Stiles asked, thinking out loud. He felt panic rising up just at the surface and put his hand onto Derek’s leg, squeezing. 

He felt the panic rushing up, fast and hard, and knew he had to stop it, to regain control.

He had strategies to deal with panic. Dr. Richardson had hammered them into Stiles so that by this point they were almost automatic. Sometimes they worked, sometimes they didnt. He wasn't going to be any use to anyone, though, in the state he was falling into. So concentrated on his breathing and thought, ‘Five things I can see: the Vick’s bottle, it's blue, the dashboard, there's that cut in the vinyl near the windshield, the stain in the upholstery where I spilled Scott’s raspberry Slurpee freshman year, Derek’s leg, the faded jeans he'd pulled on that he'd grabbed off of the living room floor, my legs, bouncing in nervousness, knees still too boney.'

“I have a feeling you'll be able to tell us,” Deaton said.

“Why?” Stiles asked, feeling more and more dread. 

He thought, ‘Four things I can touch: Derek’s leg, the rough yet soft fabric of his jeans, the strong hard muscles beneath, the phone, cold and slick in my hand, the Jeep upholstery, soft and worn with time and use, my jeans, newer than Derek's, crisper and rough under my sweaty palm,' gripping Derek's pants leg.

Derek slowly rubbed his right shoulder.

Breathing was getting difficult. His head felt like it was shrinking and the ringing in his ears was louder. He tried to breathe more slowly.

“Stiles, I need you to listen to me,” Deaton said more forcefully on the other end of the phone. He could always sense when Stiles was spiraling. He was witchy like that. He continued, “This is not yours to fix. I am going to do this with you. You will have Derek, your father, Deputy Parrish, and Chris Argent with you. I have a plan, but I need your spark to transfer the energy. All that you have to do is gather the energy outside of the area and release it inside, at the epicenter. I’ve been constructing runes and laying lines for the last three days with Isaac, Boyd, and Deputy Parrish to reconnect the dead area with the living, but I have no way of releasing the energy into the epicenter. That’s what I need you for. I think that the earth understands what I’m hoping to do, but you seem to be able to speak directly with it; you can make our intentions clear. I think it will cooperate if it knows that we are trying to heal it.”

“So I just have to use my witchy powers and carry the energy,” Stiles repeated to himself, while thinking, ‘Three things I can hear: Derek breathing, slow and even, Dr. Deaton, deep and clear and sure and commanding, Rosco’s engine, purring like a kitten since Scary Mechanic man.’

“Why will I know what caused this?” he asked, but the way he was feeling, he knew why he would recognize it: it felt just like the Void and the Station and the space between. It felt wrong and not of this world and contrary to the life around him. It felt empty.

“Everything, not only the life, but the hum of the land, the color - most can't see it, to them it simply looks dried, dead - but it is all shades of grey, the aura is missing,” Deaton explained. “The essential life force of the area is simply gone, like it never even existed.”

“Void. You think this is Void,” Stiles stated while thinking, ‘Two things I can smell: the detergent smell on my t-shirt, the Tide that Derek likes to use with the lavender softener sheets. And Derek. The forest, air, loam, spice and moss smell of Derek. The best smelling thing in the world.’

“Do you recall our talk about the nature of the Void?” Dr. Deaton asked, emphasizing, “It cannot take you, Stiles. You are so much more powerful than it, simply because you are alive. You are vital and your force, even the smallest bit of it, could completely destroy the Void. The Void is absence and you are anything but. The people that get stuck there, that never return, those people don’t know this and give in to the Nothing. Its pull is powerful as you well know. But you and I also know that there is simply too much of you, too much energy and life and love, for it to be able to take you.” 

Stiles looked Derek in the eyes. ‘I love him,’ he thought. ‘I love him so fully and deeply and overwhelmingly that it makes me dangerous to the Void.’ Still, he needed to know, he needed more. He wanted answers to the events in his past, the events that would never leave him, no matter how much he loved Derek.

“Doc, I need to ask you something, because I need to know,” Stiles started, swallowing loudly. “Was I in hell? Because it felt like I was. Is that what the Void is?”

There. He’d asked it. The one question he hadn’t been able to voice, and there it was, out in the open.

Dr. Deaton was silent for some time on the other end of the phone. Stiles got the distinct impression that the question had surprised him. Maybe it did. No one seemed to want to discuss the realities of the Void with him and if he was going to walk headlong into it, he wanted to know all that there was to know. He wanted someone to tell him what it was that he’d gone through, why it stained his soul, why it always is there, in the pit of his stomach.

“Some say hell is a place devoid of love,” Deaton finally said. “It is one interpretation, I suppose. Why does it matter?”

“I still feel him!” Stiles cried out. “I still look for Riders everywhere I am! Some days all I feel is Void! It's in me, what happened to me and I think it always will be. Some days it feels like all that I am. I want it to go away, but I know that it never will.”

“So use it,” Derek interrupted, his mind visibly working. “It's like Order of the Phoenix - or Stranger Things. Use it to spy on the enemy, to understand them. Use it to manipulate them. If you feel him, use him. You're a fucking Slytherin, Stiles and you know what you are? You're Harry if he had been a Slytherin. You’re god damned Slytherin Harry Potter, a wizard unaware of his strength, but that’s strong and smart enough to defeat the greatest dark wizard of all time.”

“But am I Dark Harry or Good Harry?” Stiles asked, because most days he really didn’t know.

Derek looked at Stiles with disbelief. “You’re Good Harry, Stiles! I - you should know that! What was it that Sirius said? ‘You're not a bad person. You're a very good person, who bad things have happened to.’”

“This is bigger than Voldemort, though,” Stiles said. “And our world _is_ split into good people and Deatheaters. I’ve had a demon in my body, Derek; I've been posessed I’ve maybe been to hell, more than once even. Why would it have taken me if I didn’t belong there.”

Derek looked angry when he said, “Fuck that, Stiles. Just fuck that and everything that goes with it,” Derek declared, grabbing Stiles chin so that he had to look Derek in the eyes. “You are the most loyal, beautiful, intelligent, and _decent_ person that I know. You saved my life, Stiles, in ways you can't even understand. You’ve saved all of us in one way or another. He took you because he thought you’d be the easiest to take - the weak human. But he was so wrong . Everyone was wrong about you. Even I didn’t believe that it was you, that he was in you, because I didn’t know how strong you were then. But the whole time you fought him. You labeled the chess pieces, you left us clues. You helped us figure out how to defeat him and get you back. All while you were stuck in there. You fought him, Stiles, and you won. There is absolutely no way that we could have trapped him again without you, and you weren’t even here - that _abomination_ of you was. And you and Peter escaped the station and you found your father and saved him from Jennifer. Everything that you’ve done, all of it, was out of love. The Void is the last place that you belong.”

Derek stared him in the eyes with that intensity that seemed only ever meant for Stiles, fierce and true and passionate. And then they were kissing again, and it was frantic, like Derek had to prove everything he’d just said to Stiles with his lips and hands and breath. Stiles became lost in it, lost in the evergreen amorentia of _Derek_ , in his arms and hands and lips.

Stiles realized that his panic attack had ended.

“You kissed my panic attack away,” Stiles said, staring in dumbstruck adoration at Derek.

“I’ve heard it’s an effective way to stop them,” Derek whispered, his voice raspy and low, the previous intensity softened with tenderness.

“You do it better than Lydia,” Stiles said, sounding completely wrecked, feeling slightly amazed at the gorgeous man still cradling his cheeks with his hands. 

Derek Hale was his. The realization of that would never lose its potency.

“You're not gonna be alone,” Derek said quietly. “None of us ever have to be alone ever again. I’ll be there, right by your side. Parrish is already there, and he’s uniquely qualified to fight this thing, too, if it's what you think it is. But you and me, we’re together now, and I’ll never leave you if I can help it. I’ll fight - _I’ll kill_ \- to protect you.”

“I love you,” Stiles said, because Derek already knew that Stiles would kill for him. And because he loved him. 

Derek's smile was filled with fierce devotion. "I love you, too," he whispered.

They stared at each other for a moment before hearing Dr. Deaton clearing his throat on Stiles' cell.

When Stiles spoke, Derek was still looking in his eyes and cradling his face, looking at Stiles like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.

"Yeah, Doc, sorry about that," Stiles murmured. It was difficult to think of doing anything but straddling Derek and defiling Roscoe, but he took a deep breath (of Derek pheromones - FOCUS, Stiles!) and said with finality, "Right. Let's do this. We've got a forest to heal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vicks Vapo-Rub is what surgeons, etc, use to help with extremely smelly procedures. There's other stuff out there that can be used, but Vicks is readily available so it's what I'm familiar with.
> 
> The Five things you can see, four things you can touch technique is quite helpful (at least for me) I'm grounding oneself during a panic attack.
> 
> In the next chapter, Stiles does something very spontaneous and very big, in true Stiles Stilinski fashion.


End file.
